


Come With Me

by A_Wistful_Writer



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Family, Friendship/Love, M/M, Multi, Pre-Slash, Slash, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2020-06-06 02:25:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 64,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19434031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Wistful_Writer/pseuds/A_Wistful_Writer
Summary: Tennant era rewrite. Once upon a time, in a dusty, decrepit barn, an ancient and weary warrior made a devastating choice. In that moment, he set in motion a chain of events that would ripple throughout all of time and space as a consequence.In another corner of the universe, Brendan Ambrosi-Jackman grew up on the Powell Estate yearning for a great adventure, so he seized the chance to escape when offered by the Doctor and Rose Tyler, eager to see what the stars had in store for him. But danger is lurking around every corner and age-old plots are advancing. What is the meaning behind the Doctor's stolen glances? And what is the nature of Harold Saxon's disturbing interest?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Come With Me is a retelling of the life and times of the Tenth Doctor, spanning from The Christmas Invasion to the End of Time. Like many other AU fanfiction, it delves into the television source material with episode rewrites from the perspective of an original character, and while that is the case here, this series also offers a different angle, drawing on the characters, monsters, settings and storylines from the series, but offering a host of new content, too!
> 
> The Ambrosi-Jackman clan, for example, are a completely original family, with different views and goals in life, but who are tethered to the story in very meaningful ways. They are a tribute to RTD’s importance on complex family dynamics, and I hope that I have portrayed them in a realistic light. They’ll have their ups, they’ll have their downs, but in the end, they are family.
> 
> As the main relationship of the story will eventually be the Doctor and an original male character, it won’t be for some people; however, I hope that everyone is able to appreciate the thought and care that went into crafting their relationship. This is a fic set in linear time, there is no timeline-hopping or instant connections here. Everything has to be worked for, and built up.
> 
> This story is a work-in-progress, with three chapters currently written up. I have an entire backlog to get through, and I hope that one day, I am able to see the finishing line. I hope to see some of you there when that day comes.
> 
> In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this story, as I surely enjoy working on it.
> 
> \- A Wistful Writer

_ Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. This is a slash (male/male) story, so if you dislike the concept, don't read. _

* * *

_ "It’s like… you have this plan for your life and you know what you need to do and what your responsibilities are, and you think, you know, if you follow the rules then everything’s gonna be fine. Then somebody comes along and pushes you off that path." \- Alec Lightwood _

* * *

__

The woman's eyes shone a menacing shade of gold as she stared him down. He felt the prickle of goosebumps along his flesh, feeling the power emanating off her very expression. "Are you afraid of the big bad wolf, Doctor?"

"Stop calling me Doctor," he demanded.

"That's the name in your head," she challenged, her piercing glare unwavering.

"It shouldn't be," the Warrior said, weary and aching. Years and years of battling had taken its toll, and he was simply a husk of his former self. "I've been fighting this war for a long time. I've lost the right to be the Doctor."

"Then you're the one to save us all," said the woman, sotto voce.

"Yes," the Warrior replied without hesitation.

"If I ever develop an ego, you've got the job," the woman quipped.

The Warrior struggled to his feet and crossed the dusty old yard towards the woman, who stared at him with unflinching curiosity.

He sighed deeply. "If you have been inside my head, then you know what I've seen," he rasped, his eyes growing haunted and distant. "The suffering. Every moment in time and space is burning. It must end. And I intend to end it the only way I can."

The woman started to speak, expositing his own plan, perhaps in a bid to seek out his weak spot, but the Warrior simply staggered over to a perch.

"Daleks and Time Lords alike," the woman said, halting the Warrior. "I could, but there will be consequences for you."

"I have no desire to survive this," he said immediately, refusing to meet her gaze. He crossed the short distance to his perch and slowly sat down, still refusing to meet her gaze as she waited for him.

"Then that's your punishment," she said hauntingly. "If you do this — if you kill them all — then that's the consequence. You… live."

The Warrior stared into the distance, feeling the gaze of his friends boring into him. All so brave and bright — his own personal fire. But every flame had to be extinguished eventually. "Living is only living if you have someone with you. I have nothing."

"And yet you have so much," the woman breathed. "Romana, Leela, Amy, Dorothy, Fitz, Ryan, Sarah Jane —"

"All gone," the Warrior whispered mournfully. There were some names he hadn't recognised, but the memories of his friends overshadowed them. "You'd be putting me on life support. That is not living." He could feel her searching gaze, burning into his very being and tearing him apart without any sleight of hand.

"Then that's your second punishment," she whispered. "For your crimes, you will never be alone again. But I assure you — it is a consequence you will not want to live with."

* * *

Brendan Ambrosi-Jackman startled awake with a sharp gasp, shooting into a sitting position. He looked around wildly, trying to ascertain his surroundings, before the gaudy flower portraits and distant hum of the television soothed his racing heart and lulled him back to reality. He was in the living room, a throw-blanket draped around his legs. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and sighed. He had been plagued by a nightmare, but it was over now.

His senses caught up with him, and he belatedly realised he wasn't alone.

"What are you doing?" He directed the question towards his mother and brother, who were both crowded around the television, a buzz of nervous anticipation exuding off them like an aura.

"Finally," his little brother Nathan huffed. "You've been asleep for ages. I thought you were dead."

Brendan rolled his eyes. "Shut up." He turned back to his mother. "Mum, what're you —"

"Shh!" his mother hissed, whirling around to glare scathingly at him. She jabbed a thumb in the direction of the television. Brendan dutifully craned his neck, and tuned into the news report.

_ "The whole of Central London has been closed off as police investigate the fire. Early reports indicate—" _

"What happened?" Brendan asked. "Was there an explosion or something."

"Duh," Nathan muttered snidely. Brendan threw a cushion in his general direction to silence him.

"Henrik's blew up," his mother replied worriedly, her Italian accent thickening. "They're saying it was a planned detonation."

"What, someone wanted it to blow up?" Brendan questioned, reeling from the news. He stared at the BBC footage, which detailed a burning building flanked by an emergency response team, transfixed by the flames.

"Duh," Nathan chirped, breaking the spell.

Brendan shot a withering glare in his direction. "I told you to shut up!"

"You shut up!" Nathan challenged angrily. The pair lunged for each other, punching and kicking whenever they got the chance.

"Silenzio!" Sofia's voice cracked like a whip, and the pair disentangled immediately, though they still glowered murderously at each other. A small gasp from their mother caught their attention. "They've found a body…" she whispered solemnly. "That poor person." Suddenly her eyes lit up. "Rose!" she breathed, and hurried away to the phone.

Rose Tyler was their upstairs neighbour. She was a girl about two years older than Brendan, who lived with her mother, Jackie, a good friend of his mother's. Her father had died some time ago, but he was pretty vague on the details. His ruminations were interrupted by his mother's shrill voice. Clearly, she had got her hands on Jackie and was indulging in gossip.

Brendan rolled his eyes and slouched on the settee, exhausted. Nathan had lost interest and disappeared to play on the PlayStation. The news broadcast was still playing in the background, but Brendan's mind was elsewhere. Powell Estate had its fair share of issues, but it was a relatively peaceful area in London. Idyllic, even. He'd never seen an explosion on that scale in real life before.

He took a shuddering breath to steady his frayed nerves, just as the front door opened.

"Honey, is that you?" Sofia called out.

"Yes," came the reply. Brendan rolled his eyes at the sound of his dad's voice. "Is everyone okay?"

"We're fine," Sofia said reassuringly. "No, Jackie, Kevin just walked in…"

Brendan was on his feet in an instant, barging past Kevin as he stomped towards the front door, grabbing his iPod on the way.

"Where are you going?" Kevin called out after him.

"The roof," Brendan said neutrally, his gaze focused on the door.

"What, now?" Kevin's tone was incredulous. "Oxford Street's just been blown to hell. You could at least wait a bit before going off to cry."

Brendan promptly ignored him. He had sixteen years of experience. Sticking his earbuds in to drown out the whining, he slammed the door behind him and made his way up to the top of the building. The council were always bragging about their safety measures on the roof door, but they didn't seem to realise that Gavin on the top floor had managed to swindle a key and hid it for the residents to use. Or maybe they knew and just didn't care. He wouldn't put it past them.

Producing the key from its hiding place beneath the planting pot, Brendan pushed the red door open and stepped out onto the chilly rooftop. He made his way to the edge of the roof and leaned over the metal rail, first looking down below out of curiosity — a man was leaving the estate — and then peering in the direction he assumed Oxford Street to be. It was so far away, and yet…

He shivered involuntarily, a flutter of excitement in his stomach, and moved away from the railing, hopping onto the raised plateau and lying on his back. He looked up at the night sky, his music blaring in his ears, and pretended that he could see the stars beyond the thick London smog.

Slowly, Brendan's heavy eyelids started to close, and he quickly drifted to sleep.

* * *

When Brendan awoke, it was morning. He winced at the bright blue sky, and rolled to the side to avoid the glare of the sunlight. His earbuds dropped out as he pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing his sore neck and arms. He didn't make a habit of sleeping rough. Realising his parents were going to throw a fit as soon he entered the flat because he stayed out all night, Brendan groaned loudly.

He pondered on his next course of action, when his rumbling stomach growled warningly, making the decision for him.

He jumped off the plateau, strode towards the exit, locked the door behind him, and hurried down the stairs. As he progressed, his ears perked up automatically when he realised two people were arguing with each other.

_ "Hang on a minute, you can't just go swanning off." _

__

_ "Yes I can. Here I am. This is me, swanning off. See ya." _

__

_ "But that arm was moving. It tried to kill me." _

__

_ "Ten out of ten for observation." _

__

Brendan tuned out of the conversation. With a topic like that, they were probably drunk, or worse. He shoved the two strange voices to the back of his mind and entered the flat, already dreading the reprimands that awaited him.

* * *

"Hey, cutie. Did you hear or what?"

Brendan pressed his finger between the current page of his book, and looked up at Shareen. He took a moment to mask his irritation before answering."Hear what?"

Shareen narrowed her eyes incredulously. She was a cool sixth-former who attended Deffry Vale to retake her exams, after she was purportedly kicked out of her old secondary school for unknown reasons. She was also probably very pretty, with her olive skin and silky black hair, but Brendan didn't know why guys were so infatuated to girls.

"Don't mess me about, Brendan. You  _ must _ have have heard."

Brendan furrowed his brow. "Heard what?"

"About the terrorist attack!" she exclaimed, as if it were obvious. "The one with the mannequins last night?"

Brendan shrugged. He supposed that was why his mother had ranted about safety during breakfast, before he'd tuned her out. "I was asleep," he said lamely.

Shareen smirked mockingly. "Aw, does lil' Brendan have a bedtime? Are all Americans like that? So cute." She reached over to pat his cheek, but Brendan slapped her hand away.

"Get lost," he snapped.

"Oi, I was kidding. You don't need to be a dick about it," Shareen spat. "D'you know what? Forget you. I dunno why I hang out with you anyway."

Brendan silently slammed his book closed and walked away. He knew exactly why Shareen hung out with him, but the memo of his disinterest had apparently flown over her head.

He shook his head, thinking about the supposed terrorist attack. It was terrible, of course, but a little thrill of excitement coursed through his veins at the thought. He had always been an avid fan of adventures. He hoped something exciting would happen again, and soon.

* * *

Frustratingly, nothing remotely exciting happened for a long time. The only event that Brendan knew of was the mysterious disappearance of Rose Tyler, who had gone missing in the terrorist attack. Some guy on the estate was a murder suspect, according to Rose's mum, and the entire estate harassed him because of it. Although Brendan didn't really believe the rumours, he generally kept out of Mickey's way to avoid harassment.

The days slowly trickled by, turning into months, until an entire year of mundane normalcy had passed. Brendan passed five GCSEs; moved onto A Levels; eagerly anticipated his seventeenth birthday; ditched Shareen; argued with his father every day about their difference of opinions; bickered with his brother, and stayed up on the roof when things got too heated at home.

That was how he found himself trudging up to the rooftop one day, after a particularly nasty row. His father had insisted that Brendan join him for a church meeting, and had become frustrated when he was rejected. Angry words were exchanged, and Brendan had decided to skip school, wishing to be alone with his thoughts and music.

He sought for the key underneath the pot, but it was missing, and the door was open, with two voices wafting towards him from the other side. Brendan frowned curiously, and stepped outside, freezing immediately when he noticed the not-so missing Rose Tyler staring back at him.

She smiled at him. "Alright?"

Brendan couldn't help but stare. "Er…" he said dumbly. The surrealism of seeing a presumed murder victim alive and well left him dazed. She looked at him expectantly from her perch on the plateau, her knees drawn up to her chest. His mouth flapped open and closed, floundering, as words escaped him. To avoid looking like a complete muppet, he focused on Rose's friend.

The man was older, more gruff-looking. His military buzz cut was complemented by a leather jacket and black boots. His gaunt face made his prominent features — the ears and nose — more noticeable. Bizarrely, his hand was pressed to his cheek, and his expression was marred by a frown. He wasn't somebody that Brendan would generally find attractive, but there was something captivating about the man and those bright blue eyes — a twinkling spark that seemed to search him out. It was ridiculous, but he almost wished the look was exclusively for him.

Then, the man smiled broadly. "Hullo!" he trilled in a… Scottish accent? Northern? Brendan couldn't tell.

"Don't listen to him," Rose said, mistaking his silence as a sign of intimidation.

"Oi, I was just being polite!"

"The world must be ending," Rose said sarcastically with a big grin.

Brendan snapped himself out of his stupor. "I…" he cleared his suddenly dry throat. "I just came to listen to some music."

"Oh, that's nice. What you listening to?" the man asked, looking at him intently.

Rose slapped his arm with the back of her hand. "Leave him alone, Doctor."

The man — the Doctor, apparently — playfully rolled his eyes at her, before refocusing on the new arrival. "You can sit here if you want. We don't mind, do we, Rose?"

"Nah, go for it!" Rose encouraged. Brendan was torn between running back to his house and wanting to run as far away as possible.

Eventually, he plucked up the courage and mumbled a measly "thanks" in their general direction as he passed to stand by the rail. He glanced at the Doctor through the corner of his eyes, but quickly looked away when he realised was staring.

"Good to see you, though, Brendan," Rose called out, probably out of kindness.

"You too." Brendan was dying to ask her where she'd been, and why she was back, but he refrained, focusing on the view of the street ahead instead. He stuck his earphones and selected a random song from his soundtrack, blocking out the pair of near-strangers.

Despite the burning desire to glance back at the pair, he successfully suppressed the urge until Rose hopped off the plateau with a huff. She said something, but the music drowned her out. He reached for his iPod, and stopped the song.

"... and I'm the only person on planet Earth who knows they exist," she finished reverently. Brendan furrowed his brows, opening his mouth to ask what she was talking about, where a loud, deep horn pierced the air and startled him into a jump. He whirled around just in time to see a battered gold object lurch through the sky.

A spaceship.

He was looking at an actual, proper spaceship.

The ship dove over the rooftop, prompting the Doctor and Rose to quickly duck into a crouch; belatedly, Brendan followed. They watched as the ship sailed through the air, making a beeline straight for the heart of London, a deep plume of smoke spurting in its wake like a trail of breadcrumbs.

For a while, the three were too stunned to speak, and the only sound that could be heard were the clothes flapping on the clothesline.

"Oh, that's just not fair," Rose breathed. The Doctor laughed with joy and rushed for the door, with Rose in tow. Brendan watched the pair leave, feeling a ridiculous urge to follow them. He briefly considered it. feeling like he was letting an opportunity slip through his fingers. He made for the door, but quickly stopped.

Something was holding him back.

Squashing the urge, he turned back and hurried to the edge of the roof, peering over the railing in an attempt to get another glimpse of the ship, but it had vanished from sight, leaving behind a fading trail of smoke. He looked down, managing to catch the Doctor and Rose as they disappeared around a corner. Even if he tried to catch up now, they would be long gone.

Disappointed, Brendan turned around and went home.

* * *

_ "Big Ben destroyed as a UFO crash lands in Central London. Police reinforcements are drafted in from across the country to control widespread panic, looting and civil disturbance. A state of national emergency has been declared. Tom Hitchinson is at the scene." _

__

"Dio mio!" Sofia declared breathlessly. Brendan looked up and rolled his eyes when he saw that she and Nathan had their eyes glued to the TV. "A spaceship crashed," she continued. "An actual spaceship."

__

"Yes, mum, I know. I saw it with my own eyes," he muttered, although his comment went unnoticed.

__

"Are we gonna die?" Nathan asked worriedly.

__

"No, caro," Sofia was quick to assure him. "They're not here to harm us."

__

"Yeah. And anyway, your ugly face would probably scare them away if they were," Brendan said with a smirk.

__

Nathan glared mutinously at him. "You're ugly! And stupid!"

__

"Brendan!" Sofia snapped. "Stai zitto!"

__

"Si, mamma," Brendan said dutifully. He smirked at Nathan as soon as his mother turned her back, infuriating the boy even more.

__

_ "But I'm being told a body has been found in the wreckage. A body of non-terrestrial origins. It's being brought ashore." _

____

That grabbed Brendan's attention. The reporters were on the Thames embankment, dragging away a shape covered in a body bag. He gulped and looked away, feeling a mixture of dread and excitement shoot through his body.

____

"An alien," Nathan whispered in awe.

____

"Don't dwell on it, sweetie," advised Sofia, tousling her youngest son's hair. She switched off the TV and tossed the remote away. "Right, boys. Jackie's invited us upstairs to see Rose. She's come back!" She looked between the pair, expecting a bigger fanfare, but they just stared back blankly, disinterested. "Who wants to come?"

____

No response.

____

She sighed heavily and crossed her arms. "There's going to be free food."

____

Nathan bounced up immediately. "Me, me!"

____

Sofia turned to Brendan expectantly. "And you?"

____

"Is Dad coming home early today?" Brendan asked innocently.

____

Sofa pursed her lips. "No."

____

Brendan yawned theatrically and languished on the sofa. "Then I'll just hang out here. I saw Rose earlier, anyway."

____

"You're too hard on him," said Sofia.

____

"Nahhh," Brendan drawled. "He's too hard on me."

____

"Be nicer to your father, Brendan!" Sofia chided.

____

"You should be nicer to Mickey," Brendan shot back. "He's not a murderer like you thought."

____

Sofia huffed resignedly at the retort, and lightly smacked the back of his head. "Smart boy."

____

Brendan grinned lazily at her. "So, can I stay here?"

____

"Fine," Sofia sighed. She briefly turned to Nathan and ordered him to wash his face, before turning back to her eldest. "Food's in the fridge. And I'm upstairs if you need me."

____

"I know," Brendan assured her. "Have fun."

____

"You too." Sofia kissed the top of his head. "Love you," she called out as she left the living room.

____

"Yeah, yeah," Brendan said with a fond eye-roll. He waited until he heard the front door close before searching for the remote. When he located it, he switched the TV back on.

____

_ "Albion Hospital. We still don't know whether it's alive or dead. Whitehall is denying everything." _

_____ _

Brendan leaned forward, engrossed by the situation. Aliens were  _ real._ They actually existed on other planets. Normally, he wouldn't have been bothered. It felt like a topical issue made for a physics class debate, but now that it was unabashedly presented before his eyes, he was hooked.

______ _ _

The news report droned on for some time. Brendan half-listened while he busied himself with other things, popping in at regular intervals in case there were any interesting developments, but it was disappointingly quiet on the whole.

______ _ _

He lounged on the sofa, his feet propped up on the coffee table, a packet of crisps half-forgotten in his hands, ready to fall asleep when the door clicked open. At first, he assumed it was his mother and brother finally returning from the party, but then the familiar grunting dashed his hopes and left him dreading the inevitable encounter.

______ _ _

Kevin stumbled into the room, and looked down at him. "What are you doing up?"

______ _ _

"Watching the news," Brendan said curtly.

______ _ _

His father scoffed derisively. "Whaaat? You? You don't even — know what the news is. Too stupid."

______ _ _

Brendan sunk deeper into the sofa, mortified. His father was drunk.

______ _ _

"I'm talking to you," Kevin slurred.

______ _ _

"I heard you," Brendan replied snappishly.

______ _ _

Kevin huffed a breath of laughter and jabbed a finger at him. "There you go. Ungrateful  _ again. _ You wouldn't — wouldn't know how good you got it. You're spoiled rotten. If we were back home, you'd be —"

______ _ _

"Praying for no reason?" Brendan quipped, unfairly.

______ _ _

"Disciplined," Kevin amended. "Don't ever say that again. You've no right."

______ _ _

"Whatever," Brendan sulked.

______ _ _

"Brendan," Kevin said warningly, but the boy was already on his feet. "Where you goin'?"

______ _ _

"You're drunk, Dad," Brendan pointed out.

______ _ _

"Sit down," Kevin ordered.

______ _ _

Brendan shook his head. "I'm getting Mum and Nathan."

______ _ _

"You'll do what I tell you to. We're not done here," said Kevin as he staggered forwards. Brendan merely maneuvered around him and made a beeline for the door, leaping out before protests could be made. Positively, the conversation was less intense than the argument that had blazed between them in the morning. Somehow, that made things worse.

______ _ _

He heaved a sigh and walked towards the staircase. There was only one place he wanted to be right now.

______ _ _

* * *

______ _ _

______ _ _

The raucous party goers had long-since retreated to their homes by the time Brendan made it to the rooftop. He sat on the rock plateau with a beleaguered sigh. The heavy silence was a breath of fresh air. He swung his legs back and forth, simply savouring the silence, pondering on the possibility of missing potential advancements in the alien case, when someone sat down next to him.

______ _ _

Brendan glanced at the newcomer through his periphery. It was a man, with a distant, glazed expression and a pack of chips in one hand. He noticed Brendan's staring and grinned brightly. "Hello!"

______ _ _

Brendan smiled nervously in return. He wasn't scared per se, just a little shy. He'd seen stranger things on Powell Estate's roof.

______ _ _

"Want one?" the man offered, holding out the pack.

______ _ _

"No, thanks," Brendan politely declined with a shake of his head.

______ _ _

"Suit yourself." The man shrugged and popped another chip into his mouth. "It's a bit late to be up here, don't you think?"

______ _ _

Brendan shrugged noncommittally.

______ _ _

"Don't you get cold?"

______ _ _

"Not really."

______ _ _

"Hm," the man popped another chip into his mouth. "Family issues?"

______ _ _

Brendan narrowed his eyes. "None of your business," he said shortly.

______ _ _

"Weeell, it'd have to be, wouldn't it? There's no other reason for you to be up here at this hour," the man continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. He grinned. "Families, who needs 'em?"

______ _ _

Brendan's brief surge of anger dissipated. That smile was quite disarming. "I just like it up here."

______ _ _

"So you should," the man sniffed. "Very nice. Gives you some perspective. Sure you don't want a chip?"

______ _ _

Brendan sighed and took a chip, to the man's delight. "What about you?" he asked.

______ _ _

The man tilted his head to the side, puzzled. "What about me?"

______ _ _

"Why are you up here? You got family issues too?"

______ _ _

"No," the man coughed sheepishly. "No family. Just… visiting some friends. Sort of a tour, actually."

______ _ _

Brendan nodded. "Sounds nice."

______ _ _

"Yeah, it is. Still…" the man quickly ducked his head and swallowed the rest of the chips. Then, he suddenly asked, "What's your name?"

______ _ _

"Brendan."

______ _ _

The man smiled warmly. "Great name, Brendan. Brilliant, in fact."

______ _ _

Brendan nodded, slightly flustered. "Thanks."

______ _ _

"Tell me, what year is it?"

______ _ _

Brendan looked at the stranger, perplexed. He scrutinised the man closely. Wide, expressive eyes, wild, spiky hair, a warm, intimate smile and an awfully tight suit. He quickly averted his eyes. "You drunk?"

______ _ _

"Yeah, must be," the man chuckled. "Tell me."

______ _ _

"2006," Brendan revealed. "March 2006."

______ _ _

"2006," the man hummed. "Bit of a bad year, but don't worry. Things'll look up."

______ _ _

Brendan scoffed. "I wish. You know that for sure?"

______ _ _

"Yup." The man emphasised the word. "Well, your dad can't be a nosy busybody all the time. Well, probably. Well, maybe. I never met your dad. Still, everything will look up by Christmas. Promise you."

______ _ _

Brendan laughed. He didn't want to admit he believed the man. "You're weird."

______ _ _

The man chuckled. "Yes, I get that a lot." He stopped suddenly and inhaled sharply, clutching his chest.

______ _ _

Brendan looked at him in concern. "You okay?"

______ _ _

"Yeah. Just… been sat here too long. I lost track of time. Always seems to happen with you and me. Anyways, better go, my boyfriend's waiting. Remember: Christmas." He folded up the packet into a ball and tossed it across the rooftop as he stood. "Nice meeting you, Brendan Ambrosi."

______ _ _

"You too," Brendan replied slowly. He watched the man leave, and quickly jumped to his feet. "Wait!" he cried, clearly surprising the man. "You never told me your name."

______ _ _

The man smiled cryptically at that. "A friend."

______ _ _

Before Brendan could ask him to elaborate, the piercing wail of police sirens disrupted his train of thought, and a helicopter shot past him, aiming a skylight below. He quickly ran to see if there had been an accident, but the action was obscured from his angle.

______ _ _

Disappointed, he slowly pivoted around, a question on his lips. The man had said 'Ambrosi'. He hadn't mentioned his surname at all. The question quickly died in his throat as soon as he turned.

______ _ _

The man had disappeared.

______ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is confused, this prologue spans the events of the first half of Series 1 — Rose to Aliens in London — and provides a glimpse into Brendan's mundane life as he leaves teenagehood and slowly approaches adulthood, much like Rose Tyler, except Brendan is two years younger.
> 
> Come With Me was inspired by the amazing 'Random Time Jumps: Profanatic' by HopeforDuende, so definitely check them out! This story would not have been a reality without their influence. If you have any thoughts, leave a review! I'd love to hear from you all!


	2. The Christmas Invasion

Months had passed since Brendan's rooftop meeting with the mysterious stranger. Downing Street had been bombed by a missile the day after, for some bureaucratic reason he'd already forgotten, and everything felt like it was on the cusp of changing.

But it didn't. Before he knew it, everything was back to normal.

Brendan was unable to suppress his disappointment. He was back to living a mundane life again. People had moved on with their lives, as if nothing had ever happened. He moved onto his final year of A Levels. His dad still wasted away in his drinking, he still bickered with Nathan, and his mother did her best to support their family in ways their father actively refused to do.

It was ridiculous, but his conversation with the man had spurred him on everyday, in eager anticipation for the Christmas to come, and now it was finally on the horizon.

It was Christmas Eve 2006, and the house was buzzing with energy. Brendan could hear his mother and brother's excited chatter from his perch on his bed, smiling when Sofia lightly reprimanded Nathan for dropping a bauble. He yawned and rolled over, snuggling further into the sheets, having slept in for most of the morning. He was hoping to catch a few more minutes of sleep.

"Brendan!" Sofia trilled. "Get up already!"

Then again, he never got what he wanted. Brendan sighed as he rolled out of bed, grabbing a t-shirt and pulling it over his head as he left the room. Sofia clucked at him when he stepped on a stray piece of tinsel, and he offered her a cheeky shrug in return.

"Don't just stand there," she hassled. "Come on, get ready! I need you to get some potatoes from the shop! Sbrigati!"

"Si, mamma," Brendan sighed. He weaved his way through the slew of decorations and walked into the bathroom, seeking out his toothbrush and the toothpaste. He paused for a second, straining his ears. He could've sworn he'd heard a loud crash and a strange wheezing noise. He waited a moment, to see if the noise would resurface, but other than a couple of raised voices, there was nothing.

Shrugging it off, he made himself presentable and left the bathroom. As soon as he did, Sofia shoved a ten pound note in his hand and swayed back to the decorations, dancing to imaginary music. Brendan watched his mother fondly; her enthusiasm for Christmas was mildly exhausting, but infectious.

"Hurry up!" Nathan hollered, smashing through the ruminations like an iron fist.

Brendan glared mutinously at him. "Why don't you go?" he challenged.

"I'm too young," Nathan replied smugly.

Brendan rolled his eyes as he spun around, shoving his feet into his trainers. He left the flat and made his way to the lift. Jamming his thumb against the button, he waited impatiently for the lift to splutter to life. The council always swore they would upgrade it, but then forgot their promises as soon as another convenient issue arose. Perhaps Powell Estate would be one of the lucky council properties that would be reviewed by Harold Saxon. His father swore by him, which usually didn't mean much, but his mother was also heavily supportive of the MP.

Brendan shivered involuntarily as the chill hit his exposed arms, mentally willing the dinosaur of a lift to speed up the process. He usually took the stairs, but was feeling particularly lazy today; it was Christmas Eve, after all.

The lift finally chimed, and the door slowly slid open. Brendan took one relieved step forward, and froze.

Rose Tyler, her mother Jackie, and her probably-boyfriend Mickey all stared back like deers caught in headlights. They were carrying a limp, gangly figure in a leather jacket between them, but he couldn't see the person's face. He was too focused gaping at the three conspirators, wondering if there was weight to the rumours about Mickey being a murderer after all.

"Brendan!" Jackie said, her tone overly shrill. "Hi, sweetheart! I haven't seen you in ages."

Brendan gulped nervously. "You saw me yesterday."

Jackie smiled fakely. It was terrifying. "Oh, yeah!"

Mickey coughed awkwardly when the teenger made eye contact, and mustered a weak, "Alright?"

Rose stared at the two in disbelief. "Look, Brendan. You can't tell anyone 'bout this."

Brendan looked at the prone figure in their grasp uncertainly. "Er…"

"I'm serious! No one can know!" she huffed when Brendan remained unconvinced. "He's not dead or nothing."

Mickey jostled the arm of the unconscious figure, doing nothing to ease Brendan's nerves. "Well…"

"For god's sake, he's not!" Rose insisted. "Look." She coordinated awkwardly with Jackie and Mickey to readjust their position so that the unconscious person's head lolled visibly to the side.

Brendan's eyes widened in disbelief, recognising him instantly. It was the man from the roof. His chest rose and fell softly, his mop of brown hair caught between his eyebrows, which Rose absentmindedly tucked away.

"I can't carry him for much longer," Jackie declared.

Rose glared incredulously. "Mum!"

"He's heavy!" Jackie complained. Mickey mumbled an agreement. Rose rolled her eyes and turned back to the startled teenager, as she jabbed a button on the lift.

"Not a word," she threatened as the doors slid shut. Brendan stood, motionless, for several seconds, bewildered by the bizarre turn of events.

Eventually, he decided that the stairs would probably be a safer option.

* * *

Later in the evening, Brendan lounged on the sofa with a half-eaten packet of crisps, mulling over the comical encounter in the lift. The stranger was back, and he was apparently associated to Rose in some capacity.

He felt the ridiculous urge to go up to their flat, and check if they was still there. Rose was apparently a traveller nowadays, according to her mother, so she could have been long gone by now. He was slightly envious of her. The ability to leave their grimy old council estate behind for a life of adventure was more than enticing.

"Brendan! Have you showered yet?" his mother cried from the kitchen. Brendan rolled his eyes. He'd certainly be more than happy to ditch authority and sanctions.

The sofa dipped suddenly, and his brother's smug face bobbed into view.

"What d'you want," Brendan groaned. "Move."

"You should take a shower," Nathan said matter-of-factly.

"You should shut up," Brendan grumbled in return.

Nathan didn't budge. "If you shower now, Mum won't pay attention when we sneak our presents out of her room, stupid."

Brendan stilled. "That's actually smart," he admitted begrudgingly.

"I'm smarter than you!" Nathan cheered, slamming an errant foot into his stomach. Brendan swore aloud, and kicked his brother off the sofa.

"Boys!" Sofia yelled warningly from the kitchen. Nathan smirked smugly, daring his brother to disregard their mother. Brendan almost came close, reaching over to slap him over the head, when a loud crash stopped him in his tracks. They stared at each other with wide eyes, as if the other was somehow responsible.

"What was that?" Brendan hissed.

"I don't know!" Nathan whispered back.

"That better not be the Christmas tree," Sofia barked. "If I come in there, and there's mess, there'll be trouble."

Brendan and Nathan quickly scoured the room, trying to determine the cause for the disruption. There was another crash, and they both directed their gaze upwards.

"It's them," Nathan whispered conspiratorially. "They're making the noise!"

"Great job, Sherlock," Brendan said dryly. The people that lived directly above them were the Tylers, and he was pretty sure he could hear muffled screams. He frowned, and rose from the sofa.

"What are you doing?" Nathan asked.

"Complaining," Brendan said simply. It was partly true; the noise was jarring, but he primarily wanted to see whether the mysterious man from the rooftop had awoken. There was something captivating about him.

"You're not going anywhere," a new voice said brusquely. Brendan turned to see his father sat in his favourite armchair, a bottle clasped between his fingers, trying not to let on how surprised he really was. He'd completely forgotten Kevin had been sitting there.

"But they're being loud," Brendan said. "I'm just gonna —"

"What?" Kevin sneered drunkenly. "You gonna shout at them? You? You're as threatening as toilet paper."

Brendan bit his lip to curb his impulses. The last thing his mother needed was for a fight to break out on Christmas Eve. He clenched and relaxed his fist repeatedly to calm himself.

Kevin's ensuing cough inadvertently turned into a belch. "Look at you. Trying to keep it all together. You've got nothing ahead of you, son."

Brendan had enough. He turned and stormed into his room before things turned hostile, slamming the door behind him and rolling onto the bed with a heavy sigh, struggling to control his ragged breathing. He was sick and tired of being the brunt of his father's mockery. Things had never quite been the same between them ever since Brendan outright refused to attend Sunday school, but their relationship had disintegrated long before that.

He just wished something would happen to his father, just to make him suffer for a bit. Just so he knew what it felt like.

He glowered at the flaked ceiling, tracing the patterns as he repeated the mantra over and over in his head, even when his eyelids grew heavy and his head started to clear.

He just wished something would happen to his father.

* * *

When Brendan awoke, weak, wintry daylight was streaming through the window, and the room was strangely empty.

"Nathan?" He frowned, glancing around for his missing brother in a groggy haze. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and tried again, to no avail. "You could've woke me before you started opening the presents!"

"Kevin,  _ please!" _

"Mum?" Brendan startled out of his bed, and lunged out of his door, wildly scanning the hallway. The front door was wide open and his little brother was crouched beside it, tears streaming down his eyes. Brendan moved to him in concern. "What's going on?"

"It's Dad," Nathan hiccuped, curling into a ball.

"What about him?"

"He won't stop!"

"Stop _ what _ ?" Brendan said impatiently. "Where's Mum?"

"She's trying to stop him." Nathan looked fearfully into his eyes. "He's not listening. He just keeps  _ moving." _

Brendan felt a cold weight press against the pit of his stomach. He pulled himself to his feet and poked his head out the door, noticing various people heading for the staircase with sluggish, synchronised steps.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Brendan said angrily. He fought to stay calm when Nathan shrugged helplessly. He wasn't even annoyed with his family, he was more concerned that they'd had to deal with such an incident alone.

"It's happening everywhere," Nathan murmured. "Some woman on the news is talking about it."

"Kevin! Get down!" Sofia's cry travelled down the staircase, recognisable amongst the chaotic din of voices.

"Mum!" Brendan took a step out the doorway, but leapt back when a deafening boom roared across the estate, and all the glass and windows suddenly shattered inwards.

Nathan cried out in terror, covering his head with his arms, and Brendan took a moment to calm his racing heart before making a second attempt. This time, he made it all the way up the staircase, mindful of the spray of glass and his exposed feet, vaulting to the top and bounding out the door.

The sight that awaited him left his blood cold. Lining the edge of the rooftop — his sacred haven — were friends, neighbours, and even strangers. Some were desperately clawing at unresponsive family members, while others wailed at the sky. Brendan followed their gaze, and swallowed a lump in his throat.

Eclipsing the morning sky was a spaceship, bigger and more menacing than the one that had crashed into Big Ben.

He was  _ really _ beginning to regret his wishes.

"Brendan," he heard someone whisper. "Brendan, is that you?"

Brendan whipped his head around searchingly, scanning the crowd to pinpoint the familiar voice. "Mum," he said hoarsely, staggering over to her. She was at the very edge of the rooftop, pressed right against his father.

"He won't get down," Sofia whimpered. "I tried everything, but he just won't listen."

"Mum, get  _ down," _ Brendan said worriedly. "You'll hurt yourself."

"No," Sofia hissed determinedly. "I'm not leaving him."

"He's lost it," Brendan tried. "Just come down!"

"Whatever he's going through, I will help him with it," Sofia said stubbornly, clinging to the motionless Kevin even tighter. "Get inside, caro. This'll all be over soon."

Brendan ran a hand through his hair, unwilling to accept his mother's words. People were screaming and begging all around him, but their words were muted and distant. He leaned over the railing, like he'd done a thousand times, in the vain hope that the fall could be broken, but it was just one long drop down.

He was about to move away, when a blur of blonde caught his attention. Brendan squinted to see Rose and Mickey, struggling into a blue box with Jackie trailing behind them, and a man hanging limply between the pair of them.

The same man who had told him to wait for Christmas.

Whatever was happening had to be connected to him, somehow. Emboldened by this mentality, and determined for answers, Brendan spared his parents a glance and bolted to the stairwell, taking them two at a time, darting around glass shards and Jackie Tyler until he was at the base of the flat complex. The blue box was in his sights. Brendan power-walked over, an irrational fear of losing the man and any hope of answers clawing at his chest, as he slammed the door open and barged inside.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't the sight before him. A colossal room, vast and expansive, populated the interior, destroying every concept of physics Brendan had ever been taught, or dared to imagine. Coral struts supported the structure, hexagonal lights were encased into the walls, and a metal walkway led into a central hub of sorts, surrounded by bags and the unconscious man.

Brendan looked around in a wide-eyed stare, and froze when he realised Rose and Mickey were staring back.

"He knows about this?" Mickey squeaked, turning to Rose. "Did we know he knew about this?"

"No, we didn't," Rose breathed furiously, glaring the startled Brendan down. "Brendan, for god's sake, you're not meant to be in here!"

"I… I saw you guys come in," Brendan stuttered, his earlier bravado failing him. "I wondered what you were doing… here."

"We're stuck in here," Mickey said lightly, jabbing a thumb in Rose's direction, "with her mum's cooking."

Rose frowned, her eyes lighting up. "Where is she, anyway?"

Mickey offered her a shrug, and returned his attention to a monitor attached to the central area. Rose looked to Brendan again and sighed.

"Come on." She grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him towards the doors, before saying over her shoulder, "I'd better give her a hand. It might start raining missiles out there."

"So why are you sending me out, then?" Brendan squeaked, the very thought sending shivers down his spine.

"Cos you're not supposed to be here!" Rose sighed. "C'mon, shift."

"Tell her anything from a tin, that's fine," Mickey called out.

"Why don't you tell her yourself?" Rose said teasingly, as she opened the door and gave Brendan a light shove. He stumbled out, taking a deep breath to steady himself for the scenic whiplash. Strangely, the craggy floor felt off beneath his feet. He raised his head, expecting to see the estate, and seized up at the unfamiliar surroundings. He had somehow landed himself in a cavernous, hollowed-out expanse, lined with rows and rows of intimidating figures.

Rose stepped out, but she looked just as baffled as Brendan felt. Before he could question her, however, something gripped his arm and pulled him forwards. He whipped his head around in surprise. A creature with blood red eyes and a skull head growled down at him, grabbing Rose as it passed. He tried to wriggle away while Rose screamed, but the creature had a vice grip on them both.

"Get off Get off me!" Rose yelled defiantly, but her demands fell on deaf ears. The creature pulled them both further into the cavern, where an older woman and smartly-dressed man were also held captive.

Rose abruptly started to yell about a door. Brendan tried to crane his neck over the towering creature's head to get a better look, but his gaze was forced forwards. He had an inkling of what had happened, as Mickey's panicked yells soon joined Rose's.

The creatures roared in triumph as the trio were brought closer, the raucous cheers sending waves of terror through Brendan. The grip on his arm suddenly loosened, and he yelped as he was propelled forwards, but the well-dressed man caught and steadied him.

"Thanks," he mumbled, turning his attention to Rose. For some reason, he half-expected her to be the authority figure, but as she stood there, wrapped in a tight embrace with the older, familiar-looking woman, she looked just as shaken.

"The Doctor," he heard the older woman whisper. "Is he with you?"

"No," Rose replied gravely, her eyes fixated on the terrifying skull creatures. "We're on our own."

Her words sent a chill through Brendan, and it quickly dawned on him that they were aboard the spaceship. He thought of his brother, huddled in the doorway, and his mother atop the rooftop, begging his father to come down.

He shook his head to clear the thoughts. His current objective was to stay alive. Seizing the moment of silence while the group shuffled around, Brendan studied the creatures. The  _ aliens. _ They all donned the horrific skull masks, and were draped from head to toe in regal, crimson robes.

One of the aliens jabbed a finger at Rose, and started to utter a string of garbled, incomprehensible words.

"The yellow girl," said the man in the suit, peering down at a tablet device. "She has the clever blue box. Therefore, she speaks for your planet."

"But she can't!" the woman protested.

"Yeah, I can," Rose said confidently. Brendan turned to her hopefully. Rose had always been reputed as one of the smarter people on the estate. If anyone could sort out this mess, it'd be her. Even if the mess involved aliens from outer space.

"Don't you dare," Mickey said warningly, dragging Brendan from his thoughts.

Rose simply shook her head defiantly. "Someone's gotta be the Doctor."

Brendan frowned. Who was this mysterious Doctor they were all obsessed with? The name was faintly familiar, but he couldn't place it.

"They'll kill you!" the woman protested, grabbing onto Rose, but she was simply shrugged off.

"Never stopped him."

"Good luck," Brendan managed to whisper, his words accompanied by an ungainly voice crack.

Rose smiled gratefully at him, before she stepped into the large, amphitheatre-esque chamber to address the cawing crowd. The individual Brendan presumed to be the leader stood before Rose, watching her expectantly. She took a deep breath, and that was when Brendan realised she was as nervous as everybody else. If anything, that made her even braver in his eyes.

"I, er… I address the Sycorax… according to Article 15 of the Shadow Proclamation. " Rose started shakily. "I command you to leave this world, with all the authority of the Slitheen parliament of Raxacoricofallapatorius and, um… the Gelth Confederacy…"

Brendan could practically feel Rose lose traction in her speech, and winced internally.

"As sanctioned by the Mighty Jagrafess and… oh, the Daleks! Now leave this planet in peace!" Rose shouted forcefully, startling the group. "In peace," she added, meekly.

The leader perked up in interest, and Brendan wondered if Rose's speech had gotten through to it after all. His hopes were dashed a moment later when the entire theatre roared with hearty laughter. The main Sycorax jabbed a finger at Rose, and started to garble in its incomprehensible language again.

"You are very, very funny," the well-dressed man translated. "And now you're going to die."

The woman and Mickey surged forward, yelling desperately at the alien, but they were kept at bay. Brendan willed himself to rush forward, to react, to do  _ something, _ but he remained rooted to the spot, too rattled to move. His heart pounded in his ears as the leader tauntingly circled the frightened Rose. It was all far too much. He'd wanted answers, but he didn't want  _ this. _

The leader was spouting nonsensical gibberish again. The translator dutifully explained everything, but Brendan was unable to fully process the disturbing, violent threats.

"Then your world will be gutted," the leader hissed.

"Then your world will be gutted," the translator repeated.

"And your people enslaved."

Wait.

Brendan turned to the translator with furrowed brows, but he looked just as perplexed. He then looked around the chamber at his fellow humans — a delightfully random sentence he thought he'd never have to say — and then at the alien leader, sharing their utter bemusement.

"Hang on, that's English," the translator said, effectively summarising Brendan's thoughts.

"He's talking English," the woman chimed in.

"You're talking English," Rose told the Sycorax leader, a gleam in her eyes.

"I would never dirty my tongue with your primitive bile," the leader spat crudely. Despite the fear and threat of death, Brendan curled his nose at the insult.

"But that's English." Rose turned to the group. "Can you hear English?"

Brendan nodded haplessly, while everybody else chimed in agreement.

"I speak only Sycoraxic!" the leader roared in frustration, but Rose wasn't perturbed.

"If I can hear English," she said hopefully, "then it's being translated, which means it's working, which means…"

She trailed off, and spun around. Brendan followed suit, and his eyes landed on the blue box, just as the doors were flung open. Stood in the entryway, clad in pyjamas, was the man from the rooftop.

"Did you miss me?" he smirked as he swaggered out of the box, running an eye along the surrounding area. The leader roared gutturally and lashed out with a crackling electric whip, but the man wrested it from its grip effortlessly. "You could have someone's eye out with that," he tutted.

"How dare —" the creature grunted, swinging its sword down, but again the man yanked it away, and snapped it in half without breaking a sweat.

"You just can't get the staff," he quipped, leaning towards the baffled alien. "Now, you, just wait! I'm busy!"

Brendan studied his relaxed composure in stunned awe. How could someone carry themselves so confidently and assuredly in such a chaotic environment?

The man walked straight past him with a beaming smile. "Mickey, hello! And Harriet Jones, MP for Flydale North! Blimey, it's like  _ 'This Is Your Life'!" _

Brendan tuned out of the discussion, and looked at the stoic woman in the suit, his expression lighting up with comprehension. Harriet Jones was the Prime Minister.  _ He _ was stood in a room with the Prime Minister. He blushed, embarrassed at having looked her in the eye and being unable to place her.

"And you, Rose Tyler," the man suddenly shouted, startling Brendan from his thoughts. "Fat lot of good you were, you gave up on me!" He paused, and lowered his raised, accusing finger. "Ooh, that's rude. Is that the sort of man I am now? Am I rude? Rude and not ginger?"

Brendan and Harriet Jones, Prime Minister, shared a hapless glance. "I'm sorry, who is this?" Harriet spoke up.

"I'm the Doctor," the man said.

"He's the Doctor," Rose confirmed breathlessly. Brendan frowned. He vaguely recalled a man on the rooftop, just moments before the first alien spaceship came crashing into London, who had answered to that title, but he'd looked completely different.

"What happened to my Doctor?" Harriet demanded, her eyes wide. "Or is it a title that's just passed on?"

The man who called himself the Doctor approached the Prime Minister. "I'm him. I'm literally him. Same man, new face.  _ Well. _ New everything."

"But you can't be..." Harriet insisted.

"Harriet Jones," the Doctor said seriously. "We were trapped in Downing Street, and the one thing that scared you wasn't the aliens, it wasn't the war, it was the thought of your mother being on her own."

Harriet's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh my god!"

The Doctor's expression brightened, and he leaned forward with a secret smile. "Did you win the election?"

Harriet smiled modestly. "Landslide majority."

Brendan eyed the exchange with interest. After that initial hesitation, they all spoke of — and to — him with such intimate familiarity. It was enrapturing to watch unfold.

The Doctor's gaze drifted to meet his. Brendan tensed involuntarily as the man drifted closer with furrowed brows, startled by the sudden proximity. He was a tall person, and Brendan had to look up to meet his curious gaze.

Finally, the Doctor smiled. "Who are you, then?"

"Er," Brendan managed in his daze, unable to find the words that effectively portrayed his shock.

"If I might interrupt," the Sycorax leader growled, which was a timely interruption, because Brendan had forgotten it was actually there. The Doctor moved away to converse with it, and Brendan found the space to exhale deeply once he was out of range.

"I DEMAND TO KNOW WHO YOU ARE," the leader roared in frustration.

"I DON'T KNOW!" the Doctor mimicked. Despite everything, Brendan cracked a smile. "See, there's the thing. I'm the Doctor, but beyond that, I just don't know. I literally do not know who I am." He started to pace on the spot. "It's all untested. Am I funny? Am I sarcastic? Sexy?"

He winked at Rose to illustrate his point, and Brendan could've sworn that she'd blushed as she looked away.

"Right old misery?" he rattled on. "Life and soul? Right handed? Left handed? A gambler? A fighter? A coward? A traitor? A liar? A nervous wreck? I mean, judging by the evidence, I've certainly got a gob. And how am I going to react when I see this?"

He pointed at something further down with an inane giggle. Brendan squinted to make out a rocky pillar.

"A great big threatening button." The Doctor ran towards the pillar, and everybody followed, including the alien leader. "A great big threatening button which must not be pressed under any circumstances, am I right? Let me guess. It's some sort of control matrix, hmm? Hold on, what's feeding it?"

He kneeled down, and resurfaced a moment later with a dab of crimson on his finger. To Brendan's disgust, he licked it without a second thought, humming contentedly.

"Yeah, definitely blood. Human blood. A Positive, with just a dash of iron. Ah, but that means blood control. Blood control! Oh, I haven't seen blood control for years! You're controlling all the A Positives."

"It's got my dad," Brendan murmured under his breath, simply to get it out there. He didn't expect anyone to hear, but the Doctor glanced at him, his eyes full of sympathy for a moment before reverting to his manic stare.

"Which leaves us with a great big stinking problem," the Doctor tutted. "Because I really don't know who I am. I don't know when to stop. So if I see a great big threatening button which should never, ever,  _ ever _ be pressed, then I just want to do this."

Without warning, the Doctor slammed his hand down on the button. Brendan cried out, flashes of his mother on the rooftop bombarding his vision as he immediately assumed the worst.

This mysterious man who had promised him a wonderful Christmas had just killed his parents.

"What have you done?" he said, sotto voce.

"He's killed them!" the well-dressed man cried out angrily.

"What d'you think, big fella?" the Doctor asked challengingly. "Are they dead?"

"We allow them to live," the leader grumbled.

"Allow?! You've got no choice!" the Doctor grinned, walking off the podium. "That's all blood control is, a cheap bit of voodoo. Scares the pants off you, but that's as far as it goes." His hand brushed against Brendan's arm as he walked past, and for a moment, Brendan could've sworn he'd heard the Doctor's voice in his head, whispering 'your father is safe'. Brendan looked to the man in askance, but he carried on uninterrupted. "It's like hypnosis. You can hypnotise someone to walk like a chicken or sing like Elvis, but you can't hypnotise them to death. Survival instinct's too strong."

"Blood control was just one form on conquest," the Sycorax leader boasted. "I can summon the Armada and take this world by force."

"Well, you could, yeah, you could do that, course you could," the Doctor conceded. "But why?!" He pointed at the idle group. "Look at these people. These human beings. Consider their potential. From the day they arrive on the planet, and blinking, step into the sun, there is more to see than can ever be seen, more to do than… no, hold on. Sorry, that's the Lion King."

Brendan blinked, the spell of the speech losing some of its lustre. He noticed Rose shake her head in exasperation through his peripheral vision.

_ "But _ the point still stands," the Doctor continued smoothly. "Leave them alone!"

"Or what?" the leader growled.

"Or…" the Doctor swiped a sword from another Sycorax's scabbard and held it aloft, jogging over to the central stage. "I challenge you!"

For a long moment, a deathly silence permeated the air, and then the entire Sycoraxian population in the arena burst out laughing. Brendan looked at them worriedly. If they could laugh in the face of such a threat, what hope did the Doctor have?

"Ohh, that's struck a chord," the Doctor said indifferently, twirling the sword in his hand. "Am I right that the sanctified rules of combat still apply?"

The leader unsheathed its sword, moving to confront the Doctor. Brendan, Rose and everybody else followed in morbid fascination.

"Thank you. I've no idea who I am, but you've just summed me up." The Doctor slipped out of his robe and threw it in Rose's direction, who managed to catch it in the nick of time. "So, d'you accept my challenge? Or are you just a cranak pel casacree salvak?"

Brendan had no idea what it meant, but the words provoked a reaction from the alien population. The Doctor and the leader bent down for some sort of ritualistic honour-bound code. It vaguely reminded him of a Japanese sword fight.

"For the planet?" the Sycorax leader said challengingly.

"For the planet," the Doctor said sharply.

For a while, nothing happened. Brendan watched with bated breath, his ears ringing from the deafening alien roars as the opponents stood still, sizing each other up. Then the Doctor lunged forwards, swinging at the Sycorax. The sharp clash of swords made Brendan jump, and he watched anxiously as the leader parried each of the Doctor's blows without exerting too much effort, even going as far as to laugh in the man's face.

"Look out!" Rose cried out when the alien leader's sword came far too close to slicing the Doctor in half.

"Oh yeah, that helps," the Doctor said sarcastically as he scrambled away. "Wouldn't have thought of that otherwise, thanks."

The Doctor and the leader continued to clash fiercely. Brendan flinched when the Doctor gasped from a well-placed jab in the ribs, and for a single, terrible moment, he was certain that the man was about to die.

The leader roared triumphantly, swinging its sword with practiced efficiency, but the Doctor dodged it and ran up a tunnel. "Bit of fresh air?" he suggested flippantly, pressing a button and bounding out of a set of newly-opened doors.

Brendan briefly shared a look with the others before they also gave chase. The moment he was out of the door, he involuntarily screeched to a halt, his eyes full of wonder as the realisation that he was stood hundreds of miles above his crummy estate hit him at full force. The thought was breathtaking, and heart-wrenching, but he was jarred back to the present when the Doctor cried out in pain. Brendan's eyes snapped to the mysterious man, whose eyes were ablaze as he covered his nose.

"Stay back!" the Doctor barked suddenly, and it took Brendan a moment to realise that he was referring to the tense Rose. "Invalidate the challenge and he wins the planet!"

The sparring duo bellowed, charging at each other with raised weapons. Brendan couldn't bear to watch, but he couldn't tear his eyes away, either. The battle reached a boiling point when the Sycorax whacked the Doctor in the face again, sending the man toppling to his feet.

And then, with a painful slice, it was over.

Brendan wasn't entirely sure what had happened. He just gaped at the scene, stock-still like a mannequin, waiting —  _ dreading — _ for the penny to drop. He glanced over at Rose, then Mickey, then Harriet, but nobody dared to speak.

"You've cut my hand off!" the Doctor breathed, and Brendan suddenly felt sick. He looked down at his own limbs, as if to make sure they were still intact, and almost shook his head for being so ridiculous.

The Sycorax leader roared in triumph, celebrating a pre-emptive victory, but the Doctor rose a second later, wild-eyed and heaving.

"And now I know what sort of man I am. I'm lucky. Cos quite by chance, I'm still within the first fifteen hours of my regeneration cycle, which means I've got just enough residual cellular energy to do this."

The Doctor raised the fleshy stump that should have been a hand, and to Brendan's surprise, the flesh started to glow a faint sheen of gold, rapidly expanding and expanding until four fingers and a thumb  _ grew _ out of the sockets. He didn't know whether he was fascinated or repulsed by the unfolding scene; perhaps he was both.

"Witchcraft," the Sycorax leader growled.

The Doctor wiggled his fingers, his expression stony. "Time Lord."

"Doctor!" Rose cried out, hurling something in his direction. Brendan squinted at the object, belatedly realising that it was another sword she'd somehow managed to relieve off another Sycorax.

The Doctor caught it effortlessly. "Oh, so I'm still the Doctor, then?"

"No arguments from me!" Rose beamed.

"Wanna know the best bit?" the Doctor said rhetorically. "This new hand… it's a fightin' hand!"

He charged at the Sycorax before Brendan had a chance to cringe at his poor Texan accent. The battle was more evenly paced this time. Each strike by the Sycorax was blocked and deflected by the Doctor, each clash manipulated in his favour.

Almost as soon as it started, the battle was over with three quick strikes and a kick to the Sycorax leader's stomach. Brendan's eyebrows jumped up at the intensity of the Doctor's strikes, and as he presided over the felled warrior, he looked far scarier than the bumbling man from earlier.

"I win," the Doctor breathed.

"Then kill me," the Sycorax leader sneered. Brendan glanced between them, suddenly wary that the Doctor would go through with the challenge. There was no doubt in his mind that the alien deserved it, but cold-blooded murder was something that didn't quite sit right with him.

"I'll spare your life if you'll take this champion's command." the Doctor said instead. Brendan released an audible sigh of relief, which earned him a satisfied look from Rose and an unnerved stare from the Prime Minister. "Leave this planet, and never return. What do you say?"

"Yes," the Sycorax leader said reluctantly.

The Doctor pressed the sword deeper to the Sycorax's throat. "Swear on the blood of your species," he growled.

"... I swear," the Sycorax spat reluctantly.

"There we are then. Thanks for that. Cheers, big fella," the Doctor said cheerily, but not even the tonal whiplash could squash the happiness swelling in Brendan's stomach. The Doctor had  _ won. _ They weren't going to be invaded after all. Unsure of what else to do, Brendan clapped in commemoration of humanity's hero, and the group followed soon after.

"Bravo!" Harriet cried enthusiastically. The Doctor looked at them, grinning happily as he approached them, a hero in his shining pyjamas.

"That says it all," Rose agreed as she trotted over to the Doctor. Brendan shared a happy look with Mickey and the well-dressed man, the thump of adrenaline slowing in his veins. Curiously, he maneuvered past the celebrating crew and walked further along the ship, peering over the edge at the city below. London, in all its glory, was laid out before him, threadbare; a postcard edition of the magnificent city.

He managed a breathless laugh, but his suspension of disbelief was interrupted by a gargantuan roar. He whirled around in time to see the Sycorax leader clamouring towards him like a bull in an arena, and panic seized at his chest. He stared, immobilised, as the Sycorax ran and ran.

And then the creature was falling.

Brendan watched numbly as the ground fell away and it plummeted to its death, unable to muster a modicum of sympathy for the creature that had intended to enslave his planet. He turned around to find everybody staring at him as if he'd grown a new head. The Doctor's intense gaze bore into him, and the next few words he uttered sent a chill up his spine.

"No second chances. I'm that sort of man."

The man looked away, the cold brittleness replaced by a warm affection as his eyes landed on Rose, and Brendan managed a shaky sigh, willing his gut to unclench.

After that brief spell of high octane excitement, the Doctor led the group back to the elusive blue box without any disruption from the remaining Sycorax. Brendan stared at it in awe. Now that the threat of imminent death was over, he could appreciate its mechanics in all its glory. A police box with a whole world crammed inside. He tentatively reached over to touch the door's handle, but flinched back in surprise when it hummed under his touch.

"By the ancient rites of combat, I forbid you to scavenge here for the rest of time," the Doctor said commandingly, surprising everyone. "And when go you back to the stars and tell others of this planet, when you tell them of its riches, its people, its potential. When you talk of the Earth, then make sure that you tell them this — it is defended."

He spoke with such conviction that Brendan knew, in that moment, who the Doctor was, and what he stood for. Even as a blue light enveloped his being and the world fell away around him, Brendan held that thought close to his chest as the foreign alien theatre disappeared and he was plopped back onto a familiar London street. He almost succumbed to the urge to kiss the grimy pavement. Almost.

"Where are we?" he heard Rose ask.

"We're just off Bloxom road," Mickey explained, excitement mounting in his voice with each syllable. "We're just round the corner, we did it!"

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," the Doctor said haltingly, ending Mickey's short-lived victory dance. He looked upwards, and Brendan followed his gaze to the intimidatingly large spaceship, watching in barely-concealed awe as it flew away into the sky with a piercing whine.

"Go on, my son! Oh, yes!" Mickey whooped.

"Yeah, don't come back!" Rose cheered, jumping onto Mickey's back and punching a fist at the sky.

"It is defended!" Mickey chorused. Brendan gazed up at the spot the spaceship had vacated, amazement and disbelief warring inside his thoughts all at once. It was only after a blur of pink and yellow tackled him with a big hug that he was able to formulate his thoughts.

"They're gone," he said to Rose, voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," Rose agreed.

"The aliens. The aliens and their spaceship are gone."

"Yeah." Rose grinned, tongue poking between her teeth. Brendan managed to huff out a breath of elated laughter, and loosely clung to Rose, letting her ruffle his hair as he processed the day's events. Mickey and the well-dressed approached them, and they all burst out laughing for no reason other than sheer relief.

"Is this what you guys do?" Brendan asked between giggles.

"Oh, yeah," Mickey said nonchalantly.

"Definitely," Rose agreed.

"No," the well-dressed man said bluntly, and the group started laughing again.

"Rose!" someone cried out. Brendan turned to see Jackie Tyler running towards them.

"Mum!" Rose breathed, pushing past the group and darting towards her. The sight of her reminded Brendan of his own mother, and he realised that she was probably sat at home, worried about his absence. He looked to the Doctor and his group of friends, but they were immersed in a discussion with each other, bickering and riding out their emotional high.

"Thank you," Brendan whispered sincerely, before hurrying up the path. There wasn't any reason to say goodbye, he was certain that he'd never find the correct words to convey his gratitude.

The sight of the estate, for perhaps the first time ever, left Brendan unexpectedly breathless. He shot up the stairs, taking two at a time, until he was out of the stairwell and standing in front of 38 Bucknall House. Home. Eagerly, he knocked on the door, and it flew open a moment later.

Brendan and his mother silently regarded each other for a short while. Neither needed to speak for the shared understanding to wash over them. All that mattered was that they were all safe.

"Mio caro," Sofia murmured, pulling her son into a tight embrace. Brendan rested his head on her shoulder, simply soaking in her presence. He spotted Nathan sitting on the floor, grinning broadly, and his father in the living room, simply staring at him. Brendan's smile faltered slightly, and he averted his gaze. He wasn't ready to forgive just yet.

"Where were you?" Nathan demanded. "You just left me!"

Brendan teasingly rolled his eyes. "Get over it."

"Are you okay?" his mother asked as she finally pulled away. Brendan considered. After everything he had seen in the past hour or so, all the violence and the game-changing mechanics of the universe, was he really okay?

"Yeah," Brendan said firmly, simply because it was true. "Yeah, I'm —"

He never got to finish. There was a sharp noise, and Brendan turned to see a bright beam of green light shoot overhead, dazzling and glowing in discordant magnificence as it clashed with four identical beams shooting from different angles. He stared at the unnerving display for a moment, captivated.

"What's that?" Nathan asked in a small voice.

"I dunno," Brendan admitted with a helpless shrug. The beam converged, and shot upwards, pulsing with energy, and he wondered if the Sycorax had come back. The beam disappeared soon after that, replaced by a loud, rumbling explosion that Brendan felt in his gut, and then that ceased as well.

"Come inside," his mother said, her voice hollow. "It's not safe outside today."

Brendan almost laughed at that. If only she knew the full extent. But he simply obliged, and followed her back into the comfort of his home without complaint, sparing a glance backwards at the outside world before the door was slammed shut.

* * *

After such an eventful day, Brendan was almost relieved for the understated Christmas. They'd taken their time opening the presents — he'd been gifted a magnificent book with an insatiable premise titled _ 'Summer Falls' —  _ and they all exchanged pleasantries. He'd even managed to find a brief, short sentence to attribute to his father, which made him feel good about himself, even though he didn't receive similar treatment.

Eventually, the day had drifted to dinner, and they were all sat around the kitchen table with a plate of Christmas turkey and potatoes. Nathan gorged into his food noisily, without much regard for table manners, shooting a suspicious glance at Brendan once he noticed his staring, as if his food was about to be snatched from under him. Brendan rolled his eyes at his brother's petulance, and turned to look at his mother, who smiled softly when their gazes met.

Aside from the TV droning in the background, dinner was a quiet affair. So quiet, in fact, that Brendan could hear the Tylers' raucous celebration above. He felt a twinge of jealousy, yearning for the same scale of celebration, but he couldn't fault his family's exhaustion.

"Hey," Nathan suddenly said. "It's the Prime Minister."

Brendan perked up, spinning around to face the TV. Harriet Jones stood in the middle of flashing cameras and microphones, looking far more overwhelmed than the confident woman who'd stood with him in the heart of an alien invasion mere hours ago.

"Prime Minister, is it true that you are no longer fit to be in position?" asked a reporter.

_ "No," _ Harriet snapped. _ "Now, can we talk about other things?" _

_ "Is it true you're unfit for office?" _ queried another journalist.

_ "Look, there is nothing wrong with my health!" _ Harriet insisted firmly. _ "I don't know where these stories are coming from, and a vote of no confidence is completely unjustified!" _

_ "Are you going to resign?" _

_ "On today of all days, I'm fine. I'm fine! Look at me! I'm fine. I look fine, I feel fine!" _

"She's gotta be booted out," Kevin grumbled. "Good riddance, too."

"I think she's great," Brendan said spitefully. Kevin glowered at him, seething at the challenge.

"I don't care," Nathan offered flippantly.

"Not much you do care about," Brendan retorted.

"Shut up," Nathan said sulkily.

_ "You—" _

"Boys," Sofia interjected, silencing them both. "Look outside!"

Brendan frowned, and followed his mother's gaze to the nearby window. His breath hitched as he stared, unbelievingly, at the snowflakes clinging to the glass surface.

"No way," Nathan said excitedly, leaping out of his seat and hurrying into their bedroom. Brendan looked to his mother, knowing that they had a shared understanding, and followed Nathan a second later to grab his coat and trainers.

They got changed quickly and quietly, their shared excitement uniting them in a rare act of sibling camraderie. It didn't take them long to dress up for the outside climate, and they soon joined their mother, who held the door wide open for them both. Brendan spared his father, still seated at the dining table, a glance, but he merely grunted and flicked television channels.

He decided it wasn't worth the hassle and followed his remaining family out the door, exasperation shifting to mounting excitement as the cool air hit his face.

Brendan and Nathan bounded out of the flat first, closely followed by their mother. Brendan stared up at the falling snow in awe, feeling the fresh layering on the ground crunch beneath his feet. Nathan and Sofia had already rushed forward, chattering excitedly with the couple from number fifty-two.

"How's it snowing?" he pondered aloud. "We never get snow."

"Who cares?" Nathan said breathlessly, pushing his shoulders playfully. "It's  _ snowing. _ Enjoy it, yeah?"

"Yeah, but —"

Whatever protest Brendan had in mind was lost when Nathan bent down, scooped up a clump of snow, and shoved it into his face. He spluttered haplessly as his brother retreated, cackling maniacally to himself. His mother started to laugh as well, reaching over to high-five Nathan, when her youngest pelted her with snow as well.

_ "Nathan!" _ she snapped angrily, firing off a string of angry Italian curses as she chased after him, grabbing snow and launching it at regular intervals.

Brendan laughed at their ridiculous antics, moving to join them until he noticed something in the corner of his eye. Turning curiously, he froze mid-step when he realised the Doctor, Rose, Mickey and Jackie were all huddled together beside the blue box, chatting quietly amongst themselves. He couldn't make out their words, but the Doctor and Rose were both grinning broadly, while Mickey looked downcast.

Suddenly the Doctor made his way over to Jackie, chatting energetically as he wrapped an arm around her. For a brief moment, their eyes met and his expression shifted to surprise, before changing back to glee so quickly that Brendan almost thought he'd imagined it.

He considered walking over to them, but was held back by the fact that if he did so, he'd be openly acknowledging how much they'd changed his life in such a short period of time. Even if he did believe in aliens, their power was almost daunting.

Fortunately, he didn't have to make a choice, as something round and cold smacked him in the back of the head a second later. He whirled around to see his mum and brother collapsed against each other, laughing at his scandalised expression.

Shaking his head, Brendan grabbed a clump of snow and charged at them with a grin, unwilling to let them have all the fun.

* * *

When all was said and done, Brendan lay awake in his bed, listening to the gregarious snores of his younger brother, and tracing absent patterns in the cracked wallpaper. The day had drawn to a close, and the evening had taken its place. If he focused, he could still hear the celebrations in some parts of the estate, but they were faint and sporadic. His own household had retired to their beds long ago, enjoying a peaceful solace from the terror Christmas had brought in its festive wake.

Everyone except him.

He rolled over, scowling at the ceiling as if it were to blame for his sleeplessness. He'd tried  _ everything _ , from counting sheep to relaxing his entire body, but no matter how hard he tried, his mind would always drift back to that beam of green energy, and he'd startle back into wakefulness.

Nathan snored again, cutting through his internal ruminations like a knife through butter. Brendan barely resisted the urge to lob a pillow at him, and settled for a beleaguered sigh instead, slowly coming to terms with the fact that he probably wouldn't be falling asleep any time soon.

Rolling out from his bed, and running a hand through his messy, still-damp hair, Brendan reached for his discarded trainers and tugged them on. Mindful of his slumbering family, he carefully edged himself out to the front door, prising it open and closed with practised stealth. It would have been a clean escape, if he hadn't tripped over the door's bottom on his way out.

Shrugging it off when he realised nobody had been present to witness his embarrassing blunder, Brendan strolled up to the rooftop, examining the glass that was yet to be swept away; an ever-present reminder of humanity's latest milestone. He fiddled with his battered old iPod, almost bumping into the door in his late-night haze. Brendan stopped himself in time, but found himself staring in bewilderment when he realised the rusty old door was slightly ajar.

Tentatively, he pushed it open and peered out into the gloom. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of a man lounging on the rock plateau, fiddling with a slim, metal contraption with a glowing blue tip. A man in a familiar suit and a great big overcoat.

The Doctor looked over at him and smiled. "You'll catch a cold."

"What?" Brendan managed to say, brows knitted in puzzlement.

"Your hair." The Doctor patted his own wild hair in demonstration. "It's not dry."

"Oh." Brendan floundered. _ "Thanks? No," _ he looked away, surprised by his own social ineptitude, before turning back hurriedly to salvage the awkward situation. "It's alright."

"Okay." The Doctor's eyes twinkled in open amusement. He looked calmer this way, less manic than before. "You gonna stand there all night?"

"No," Brendan said absently, without moving an inch.

"Come on, then." The Doctor patted the spot next to him. "Plenty of room."

Brendan approached the Doctor reluctantly, keeping an eye on his unsettling hand as he made himself comfortable on the perch.

"It's Brendan, isn't it?" the Doctor inquired. "That's what Rose said." Brendan nodded in confirmation. "Nice name, Brendan."

"Thanks," Brendan murmured. "The Doctor's a bit weird for a name, though."

"I like it!" the Doctor said defensively.

Brendan smiled lightly. "Fair enough."

The Doctor paused for a moment, before softly asking, "Are you okay, Brendan?"

"Not really," Brendan replied truthfully, and they both lapsed into a considerate silence. He swung his feet back and forth, looking up at the gentle powder of falling snow as he struggled to puzzle together his thoughts, and managed a weary sigh. "It was real, wasn't it?"

"Course it was," the Doctor said reassuringly.

"Okay," Brendan nodded. "That green light — was that real, too?" He looked to the Doctor then, and noticed how his eyes darkened considerably for a moment, reminding him of the cold expression on the man's face as the Sycorax leader had fallen to its death.

"Yes," the Doctor replied grimly, before snapping back into a cheerful tone. It was almost jarring. "Still, it must have been quite the experience. Aliens on Earth. No denying it this time. Big milestone for you lot."

"Yeah," Brendan sighed. "Things are starting to look up. You were right."

"How do you mean?"

Brendan looked to the man, and smiled sadly. "You don't remember, do you?"

"Sorry?" the Doctor said in askance.

"We sat here a couple months ago," he recounted. "You asked what the year was. Pretty sure you were drunk."

"Not this face," the Doctor frowned thoughtfully. "I'm brand new, me."

Brendan cocked his head curiously. "You said your boyfriend was waiting."

"I don't have a boyfriend," the Doctor said languidly, looking distantly into the horizon with a troubled expression. "Not anymore. Not for a long time." He inhaled through his nose and turned back. "Still, must have gotten me mixed up with someone."

"It was definitely you," Brendan insisted. "I remember the hair."

The Doctor hummed with interest, but didn't say anything else. Brendan watched him for a moment, trying to figure him out. He was a man who could switch between emotions as easily as a remote control could flick through channels, but there was a great deal that was left untold. He was like a half-finished novel, the hidden depths of him lost in the realms of time.

He didn't even remember when it happened, but Brendan found himself warily ogling the Doctor's regenerated hand again.

"Something on your mind?" the Doctor asked teasingly, wiggling his fingers just to be difficult.

"That's so… weird," Brendan uttered, struggling to suppress a shiver.

"I won't be able to do it anymore. The regeneration cycle's all used up."

"So, you're definitely an alien, then," Brendan said resignedly.

_ "Yup," _ the Doctor drawled. "Is that okay?"

Brendan briefly considered the question. "Yeah," he decided. "That box that's bigger on the inside — is it yours?"

"My TARDIS," the Doctor said proudly, warming up the snowy rooftop with his smile alone. "I don't go anywhere without it."

"What does it do?"

"It takes me where I want to go."

"And where do you want to go?"

The Doctor looked at him with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Everywhere."

Brendan smiled wistfully at the thought. "Sounds nice."

"You could come and see," the Doctor offered.

Brendan perked up. "Could I?"

"Anywhere you want," the Doctor promised. "I'd be able to take you there."

"Would the aliens be there, too?" Brendan asked ponderously. "Cos there's more than Sycorax and whatever you are out there, right? I can feel it."

"Sometimes," the Doctor admitted.

"Is that what you do?" Brendan inquired curiously. "Fight them for a living?"

"Oh," the Doctor drawled. "Only about ninety-seven percent of the time. Well, ninety-eight. Well… ninety-nine, but there's always that one percent."

"Thank god for that one percent," Brendan remarked dryly. He toyed with the notion of travelling anywhere, fulfilling his heart's desire with a life on the open road, just like he'd always wanted, but something held him back. "I can't."

The Doctor's shoulders dropped slightly. "Okay."

"It's not that I don't want to," Brendan amended hastily. "It sounds great to go anywhere you want, but I just don't think I'm ready for all that. Not yet. Besides, I've got exams, and my family's here. I don't wanna leave them after today."

The Doctor nodded understandingly. "Family's good."

"Sometimes, they're just annoying," Brendan remarked, looking into the distance again. "It's days like that when I come up here."

"Really?" the Doctor looked sceptical. "Not your bedroom or…?""

Brendan laughed at the suggestion. "Nah. I like it up there."

"Quite right," The Doctor said acceptingly. Brendan yawned then, loud and gregariously, as the chill finally caught up to him. "You should get some sleep," the Doctor advised.

"Not yet," Brendan mewled. "I wanna know about the places you've been to."

"You sure? It's a long list," the Doctor warned.

"It's a long night," Brendan countered. "Come on, tell me about all the aliens you've met and stuff. Have you been in any other sword fights?"

"Oh, plenty of times," the Doctor boasted.

"Such as?" Brendan eagerly shuffled forward.

The Doctor smiled at that, and began recounting his long story. "I suppose the best place to start is in a department store…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of the Christmas Invasion! Brendan hasn't officially joined the TARDIS team yet, and indeed he hasn't contributed much in this chapter, but that all comes later in the series, and the stage has been set for brilliant adventures through time and space.


	3. New Year's Eve

Living on the Powell Estate meant that there was never a dull New Year's Eve, especially after a spaceship carrying menacing monsters from outer space dominated the Christmas skies. People had moved on in the following days, as they so often did, but he could still hear whispers in some parts of the estate, and indeed the country. They'd all witnessed a monumental event in history, and that preyed on everybody's mind in some shape or form.

Celebrations were loud and raucous when Brendan awoke that morning. People on the estate were always keen to get a head's start for the new year, drinking and shouting to their heart's content, regardless of the time of day, and this year was no different. He could hear music blaring at deafening volumes, competing with every other song on the estate. Neighbours were screaming platitudes at each other from balconies, and a few crotchety naysayers yelled at them to shut up.

Brendan tuned out the outside cheer with an amused smile, and heaved out of his bed, rubbing at his bleary eyes as he stumbled out of the bedroom. Nathan, as usual, was plopped in front of his new Xbox 360 with a packet of crisps and a discarded bowl of cereal, playing a game of Fifa. His mother was hunched over the coffee table, reading glasses perched on her nose as she pored over some documents.

"Yes! Get in!" Nathan cried suddenly, jolting Brendan out of his ruminations. Incensed, he stalked over to his cheering brother and kicked him in the back. Nathan whipped around furiously. "Oi!"

"Shut up," Brendan hissed. "And clean your stuff up."

"You shut up," Nathan said petulantly.

"Both of you shut up!" their father's muffled voice yelled from his bedroom, as he banged on the wall to illustrate his order.

_ "Boys," _ their mother said firmly, accusingly pointing a paper in their direction. "Start a fight and I'll chuck you out for the day."

"That's illegal," Nathan crowed snottily. "I'm telling Mr Saxon."

"Oh, Mr  _ Saxon," _ Sofia huffed, bitterly cursing in Italian under her breath. "If I never see that man again, it'll be too soon."

"Thought you and Dad loved him," Nathan pointed out.

"We do, caro," Sofia sighed. "But he is a very frustrating man to plan for."

Brendan hopped onto the sofa beside her, peering at the papers with a frown. "You managing an event for him?"

Sofia made a noncommittal hum of confirmation. "Right now, it feels more like he's managing  _ me." _

"Usually what politicians do," Nathan sniped. Brendan plucked a spoon from the table and chucked it at his head, smirking at the outraged look on his face.

"You'll be alright, Mum," he said reassuringly. "You're great at planning and stuff."

"I know I am," Sofia said proudly. "But there's just so much to account for."

"Event's ages away," Nathan said with surprising grace, even if his attention was solely focused on the screen.

"Exactly," Brendan agreed. "There's loads of time."

Sofia took a breath. "You're right," she conceded, giving Brendan a kiss on his forehead. "Now, stop sitting here and make yourself some breakfast."

Brendan smiled obligingly and hopped off the sofa, cuffing Nathan over the back of his head as he passed. "You're still stupid," he said over his shoulder.

"So are you," Nathan called out. "And you're meant to be the older one."

Brendan rolled his eyes as he stuffed some bread into the toaster, leaning thoughtfully against the counter as he waited for it to sprout up. It had been a few days since the incident with the Sycorax, and he found himself unable to move on like everybody else had. When he'd woken up on the rooftop after his talk with the Doctor, alone with only a funny wheezing sound for company, he felt like a door had been shut in his face. A door he'd declined.

Suddenly he was constantly looking over his shoulder, seeking out adventure in the grimy estate shadows, and every other nook and cranny he knew off by heart, but it was all pointlessly boring now that an entire world had been opened up for him.

He lifted himself onto the counter with a heavy sigh, reminding himself of the reasons he had chosen to decline: his family, who had been through so much in such a short space of time, were going about their lives as if they hadn't been shaken to the core, and his exams, a fleeting but anxiety-inducing period of his life that would be over before he knew it. What would he do after they were over? Get a job? Where? The thought of going to work, killing time and then coming home like clockwork was wholly unattractive.

He'd considered taking a gap year to travel after A Levels were completed ever since he started GCSEs, dreaming wistfully of days in sunny Australia instead of completing his maths questions, but problems started to arise, as they so often did. Where would he go? How much did he need to save up? Where would he get the money?

In the end, it all circled back to getting a job and being like everybody else.

The sound of the toaster snapped him from his ruminations, and Brendan leaped off the counter, shaking himself for his despondency. It was New Year's Eve, the numbing existential questions could wait another day.

He started rummaging through the cupboards for Nutella, dimly aware of the knocking at the front door.

"Is no one going to get that?" Sofia called out exasperatedly. Brendan smiled to himself as he rattled a cupboard to signal his indifference, and listened idly as his mother rose from the sofa, once again muttering a string of Italian curse words under her breath.

He kept one ear on the door as he sifted through the drawer for a butter knife, spreading the chocolate over his toasted bread as he listened to his mother's shameless gossiping with a recognisably brash, loud girl.

"Nathan, babes," the girl said suddenly, midway through a racy story involving Tina the cleaner and the market vendor. "You're doing my head in with those voice cracks."

"Get lost, Shareen," Nathan grumbled absentmindedly. Brendan rolled his eyes at the exchange and stepped out of the kitchen, deciding to make his presence known.

Shareen homed in on him instantly. "Alright, cutie?" Her smirk faded, and she ran her eyes along his skinny frame assessingly. Brendan simply bit into his toast, waiting for her to say whatever she needed to say. "Babes," she started slowly. "I get the estate's rough and all, but most people actually make an effort this late in the day."

"What?" Brendan furrowed his brow and looked down at himself, belatedly realising he was dressed in nothing but his boxers. "Oh," he said quietly.

Shareen's ruby red lips curled into a smirk once again. "You trying to come onto me, 'merican?"

Brendan's eyes bulged at the implication. "No!"

"I dunno," Shareen said with exaggerated doubt. "That's what Dave said 'fore he tried to jump me at the club."

Sofia playfully slapped her shoulder. "Don't wind him up!" she clucked. "You know how easily he blushes."

Shareen grinned at her. "Exactly. Get over yourself, babes," she said airily, holding up her left hand to show off a flashy diamond ring. "I sure as hell did."

Brendan flopped onto the sofa and indulged in his toast, but his mother gasped. "Shareen! Are you…?"

"No chance!" Shareen snorted, waggling the ring. "Just a gift from Jay-Jay."

"So why d'you keep it on your ring finger?" Brendan said critically.

"So topless guys like you leave me alone," Shareen retorted. "How d'you know about ring fingers anyway? Something you're not telling us?"

"Shareen!" Sofia tutted disapprovingly.

"I'm only messing," Shareen laughed. "What girl'd want to marry him, anyway?"

_ Hopefully none, _ Brendan thought wryly. "Why are you here again?"

Now Sofia turned on him. "Brendan!" she chided.

"I wanted to see you," Shareen said to Sofia, the smile softening into a frown. "I need a favour."

Sofia looked curious. "I'm listening."

Shareen pursed her lips thoughtfully, perching on the coffee table. "I need a job."

"I thought you had H&M now," Sofia frowned, taking a seat on the table beside her. Brendan watched them for a moment, toying with the notion of reminding his mother that she was always haring about how fragile their coffee table was. In the end, Nathan beat him to it, and was rewarded with a light slap over the head.

"I did," Shareen said gloomily. "But me and the girls got cut, didn't we?"

"Why?" Sofia probed gently.

"Cos Keisha had her hand in the till, didn't she," Shareen grumbled, and then she muttered something else under her breath. It was so quiet that Brendan found himself leaning forward curiously, as did his mother and brother.

"You called him what?" Nathan demanded with a frown. Shareen loudly repeated her statement with gusto, and everyone in the living room burst into laughter.

"Oi, it's not funny!" Shareen huffed. "I'm out of a job!" She turned to Sofia hopefully. "So, got anything on? Nothing much, just to tide me over."

"Of course you can have a job, sweetheart," Sofia assured her. "I've got something upcoming, and I'll need the staff. I could do with someone to help with ordering the supplies in the meantime."

Shareen brightened considerably. "I can do that!"

"Any of your friends need jobs too? I can get them on as staff."

"You're the best, Sof," Shareen declared, pulling Sofia into a tight hug. Brendan smiled softly at the display. His mother had made a name for herself running the local venue opposite the pub as an independent events business, hiring anybody with a good head off the estate as catering or planning staff if they needed a job. It was her benevolent acts of kindness that had earned them a good reputation and — most importantly — free food from the chippy. The estate dubbed her the 'Wonder Sof', which Brendan found to be a cheesy but accurate nickname.

Shareen left soon after that, with a playful slap to Brendan's cheek and a boisterous 'Happy New Year', vowing to see them all later at Jackie's annual party. Brendan settled into the sofa, sighing in contentment as he enjoyed his toast and watched his brother fail epically at his game, providing snide commentary and earning a middle finger as a result.

Five minutes after Shareen left, there was another knock on the door.

Brendan rolled his eyes, but again made no move to answer it. His mother glared at him incredulously, and then at the back of Nathan's head, before abandoning her papers and trudging to the front door again.

"Why didn't you answer it?" he asked Nathan. "Instead of just sitting down for no reason."

"Shut up. You're just sitting, too," Nathan pointed out sourly.

"I'm older," Brendan proclaimed languidly.

"You're ancient," retorted Nathan. Brendan chucked the bread crust at his head.

"Oh!" their mother abruptly exclaimed."Mickey!"

Brendan and Nathan stared at each other in shock, registering Mickey's reply to their mother, "You alright, Sof?"

"What's he doing here?" Nathan hissed accusingly, as if the whole thing was his brother's fault. "He's gonna shank us!"

"He's not even a murderer, you idiot," Brendan said shortly.

"Dad said he was," Nathan replied smugly.

"He was wrong, like always," Brendan whispered furiously. "Rose is still alive, you moron. You went to her party,  _ remember?" _

Nathan paused then, his eyes widening in realisation. "Oh, yeah."

Brendan rolled his eyes and slumped back onto the sofa, fully prepared to eavesdrop on the conversation to sate his curiosity, when his mother and Mickey walked into the room.

"Mickey! What you doing here?" Nathan gasped as if he hadn't just been gossiping about the man a moment earlier.

"Idiot," Brendan muttered lowly under his breath.

"Alright, lads?" Mickey said awkwardly, as if he knew that they'd been discussing his presence. The tension didn't last long, as Mickey soon turned to Brendan with a smile. "Run out of shirts?" he asked jokingly.

"He's a tramp," Nathan said bluntly, and was quickly silenced by a withering glare from their mother.

"Takes one to know one," Brendan quipped. "I forgot to grab one," he added for Mickey's benefit.

Mickey quirked a brow. "Aren't you cold?"

"Not really," Brendan shrugged.

"Well, you should probably grab one," Mickey suggested. "Jackie wants to see you."

Brendan frowned, sharing a puzzled look with his mum and brother. "Me?" Mickey only offered him a helpless shrug. Brendan sighed. "Alright, I'll grab a t-shirt and meet you up there?" he suggested. Mickey nodded and dutifully stepped outside, always mindful of never overstaying his welcome. It struck Brendan how hard the year of harassment and whispers might have affected him.

"I wonder why she didn't just call," Sofia mused.

"Murderers don't leave any traces!" Nathan crowed flippantly. This time, Brendan lobbed a cushion at him.

* * *

Once he'd managed to make himself semi-respectable, Brendan hurried upstairs to 48 Bucknall House. The door was left open, seemingly to grant him passage, but he tentatively knocked anyway.

"Hello?" he called out nervously.

To his relief, Jackie poked her head out of the living room a second later. "Hi, sweetheart," she said warmly. "Come in!"

Brendan obliged, shutting the door behind him and padding over to the sofa, perching on the armrest.

"How are you doing?" Jackie asked him softly.

Brendan shrugged. "Alright. Happy to be out of school."

"Ha!" Jackie laughed. "Cheers to that."

"Yeah, I know the feeling and all," Mickey chimed in as he stepped out of the kitchen, peeling off a pair of gloves.

"You came for that assembly before Christmas, though," Brendan frowned. "You and the band."

"Nah, that was business."

Brendan pulled a face. "I wouldn't call it that."

"It was our best performance," Mickey said defensively.

"It definitely put the 'bad' in Bad Wolf band," Brendan murmured, cringing at the ill-fated end-of-year performance.

"Yeah, yeah," Mickey said with an eye-roll, and Brendan grinned at him.

"How are the guys?"

"Good, yeah," Mickey said simply. Brendan nodded, and the pair lapsed into a slightly awkward silence.

"Micks is fixing up my washing machine," Jackie revealed offhandedly, drawing their attention. "Stupid thing never works."

"Nothing I couldn't fix," Mickey said confidently.

"Nice," Brendan said appraisingly.

"D'you want anything, Brendan?" Jackie spoke up. "Tea? Coffee? Water? A sandwich?"

"No, thanks," Brendan quickly interjected. Once Jackie got rolling, there wasn't much that could stop her. "I gotta ask, though — how come I'm here?"

Jackie slumped back into the sofa thoughtfully. "Me and Mickey were chatting, and he told me about how you were on that spaceship with them. The one on Christmas?"

"Haven't been on any others," Brendan pointed out.

"Still, how you holding up?"

Brendan blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. "Fine," he said a moment later. "I mean, it's… different. Everything's different."

"Scarier?" Mickey prompted.

"Yeah, but also kinda… exciting, I guess?" Brendan struggled, unable to string together his words in a manner that suitably conveyed his thoughts and feelings.

"It's all so strange, isn't it?" Jackie hummed. "And mad. And the worst part is that you feel like you can't talk to anyone about it."

"Yeah," Brendan murmured. That was  _ exactly _ how he felt.

"Well, you're right," Jackie said bluntly. "No one else will understand what it's like. How could they? It's flipping aliens."

"I suppose," Brendan shrugged glumly. It was true that he couldn't discuss the Sycorax with his mother, there was no way she could ever empathise. Besides, he was pretty sure she'd lock him up forever if she ever found out.

"But we do," Jackie continued. "Me and Micks, we get it. We've seen the Doctor, we know what he does. Got attacked by the big green monsters and all."

"Twice," Mickey said glumly. "And Montadeans."

"What?" Brendan looked between them strangely.

"Look, all I'm saying is that I get how lonely it gets," Jackie said. "I felt it for a long time, when Rose went missing, d'you remember? But Mickey gets it now, and you do too. So we can rely on each other, when nobody else gets it, d'you hear? Anytime you wanna talk about it, come to your Aunt Jackie."

Brendan considered it all for a moment, thinking about how stifling it had been to see everybody else move on from the Christmas invasion while he'd been locked in place, constantly looking over his shoulder. Even though some of them whispered about it in the shadows, he'd felt tremendously alone. But as he looked between Jackie and Mickey's warm expressions, he realised that they truly did understand.

Finally, Brendan nodded in confirmation.

"Good." Jackie smiled at that. She rose from the sofa. "Now come on, away with the pair of ya. I've gotta get this place ready for the party. And don't think either of you're getting out of it. It's a new year. Everyone should celebrate together."

Brendan and Mickey shared an eye-roll at Jackie's antics. Beneath all the danger and isolation brought on by her daughter and her mysterious friend, she was always unfailingly true to herself. The thought was reassuring to Brendan.

Mickey stalked out of the door without complaint, and Brendan followed suit, pausing briefly to cast a look back at Jackie, who suddenly seemed to cave in on herself now that she stood alone. She caught his gaze, and shooed him away with a smile.

Brendan smiled sadly in return as he gently closed the front door. She was always unfailingly true to herself, but it was clear that the danger and isolation had taken their toll on Jackie Tyler.

* * *

There were very few people on the Powell Estate that were lauded for throwing the most outrageous parties, but it was universally agreed that one of them was 48 Bucknall House's Jackie Tyler. The entire living room was packed to the brim with people, from Jackie's friends Bev and Debby, to Shareen and Keisha, to Mickey and his roommates Mook, Sally and Patrique, and even old lady Dilys. Brendan's own family were spread out around the area; his mum was laughing with Jackie and her friends, Nathan was by the crisp bowl with Mickey, debating some game, and his dad was lounging in a chair, a bottle of beer loosely clasped in his hand, being generally unsociable, yet charming the ladies without raising a sluggish hand. It was eye-roll worthy.

Brendan was sat cross-legged on the floor beside the living room entrance, watching the festivities with a blend of curiosity and irritation. He didn't hate the celebrations, but he didn't necessarily enjoy them, either. There was something about a room full of people that unsettled him, and the longer he sat there, the more that creeping feeling seeped into his gut.

He would never begrudge anyone their celebration, except maybe his father, depending on how spiteful he was feeling, so Brendan stood up and quietly left the flat when everybody converged to dance in the centre of the living room, hoping he didn't draw too much attention as he did so. Feeling immensely better once the cool air brushed against his face, he slowly travelled up to the rooftop, mulling on the possibility that he was more introverted than he initially thought.

Upon reaching the roof entrance, Brendan stooped down to grab the key from its hiding place, pausing halfway when he realised that the door was hanging slightly ajar. Frowning, he stood up, and gently pushed it open, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu wash over him.

He was surprised by his own disappointment at seeing a man that wasn't the Doctor perched on the plateau.

The man turned to him, a curious, almost knowing glint in his eyes. "Hello there," he said, waving animatedly. "Come to enjoy the fireworks?"

Brendan frowned. "It's not for another twenty minutes."

The man shrugged. "Time's relative in this dump. Come to sit?"

"Er," Brendan hesitated, surprised at himself. He was usually never so ruffled by the sight of a strange person on the roof, it was far too frequent an occurrence. But a lot had changed since he'd been given a glimpse of the bigger picture, and there was no telling what species the man was, even if he looked strangely familiar.

"Come on," the man said confidently. "I don't bite. Much." He smiled charmingly then, and Brendan relaxed, offering him a small smile in return as he hopped onto the ledge beside him.

"Never seen you around before. You new?" Brendan said conversationally, making note of the man's pristine suit and dress shoes. He looked far too formal for a man knocking about the Powell Estate, and his mother would have rattled on ceaselessly about a newcomer. He still recalled when the Pyes first moved onto the estate, and his mother had crowed about safety measures around the now-deceased troublemaker Darren Pye, often to the point that Brendan just tuned her out.

The man snorted derisively. "This  _ dump?" _ he said seethingly. "Never."

"It's not that bad," Brendan defended.

"A young, handsome boy like yourself?" the man firmly pressed a strong hand to Brendan's shoulder. "You're worth more than this."

"Thanks," Brendan mumbled, hoping his embarrassed flush didn't show too much. He was normally far better at receiving and brushing off compliments, but there was a manner about the man that made him uncomfortably tense.

"Why are you up here?" the man asked him, and Brendan seized on the topic change.

"Just needed some space," he revealed. "There's a party downstairs."

"Not a fan of people," the man deduced.

Brendan shook his head. "I don't mind them," he corrected. "I just… don't like being in large groups when they've had a few to drink."

The man nodded in agreement. "It's only natural," he said assuringly, lips twisting into a sneer. "Who wants to be stuck in a room of stinking, stupid idiots when you're not the centre of attention?"

"I don't want to be the centre of attention," Brendan said immediately, the very thought making his stomach twist into knots.

The man looked to him, the harsh sneer softening into something warmer. "You should be," he said with tremendous certainty. "You should be king of it all."

Brendan smiled shyly at him, taking in the man's combed brown hair and sharp, angular features. There was something in the man's striking brown eyes that dredged up the familiarity that he'd felt before, and his smile turned into a thoughtful frown. "Have we met?"

The man grinned. The very gesture was like an exploding supernova. "What makes you say that?"

"I feel like I've seen you somewhere," Brendan admitted.

The man leaned into Brendan's side, angling his lips towards the boy's ear as if to whisper a dirty little secret. "Perhaps on the television?" he suggested helpfully. "I  _ am _ the Minister of Defence, after all."

Brendan jumped back as if he'd been jolted, staring at the smug man with wide eyes. "You're Harold Saxon," he breathed in disbelief. "Holy crap, you're Harold Saxon!"

Saxon's grin broadened. He waved his hands in a showman gesture. "It's me!" he proclaimed with gusto. "But don't tell anyone."

"What are you doing here?" Brendan blurted out, before quickly backtracking. "I mean, it's nice to meet you, but you just called this place a dump. It's not exactly a political hotspot."

"I'm reviewing the property," Saxon said grandly. "It's the next on my list."

Brendan perked up considerably. "No way!" He tilted his head, perplexed. "You work during the holidays?"

"I'm the Minister of Defence," Saxon said with the barest hint of acrimony. "I don't  _ get _ holidays."

Brendan winced, suddenly feeling very stupid. "Oh yeah, that makes sense."

"It's a good thing," Saxon said assuredly. "I think I'd get bored. There's not much to satisfy me, though I'm sure I've found an exception." He smirked coquettishly at Brendan, and there was something about that look that made the boy's pulse quicken.

"You know my dad," Brendan coughed awkwardly, trying to snap himself out of his daze. "And my mum. She's running an event for you."

"Ah, yes," Saxon said knowingly. "Kevin and Sofia. You must be Brendan. I've heard about you."

"Yeah?" Brendan blinked, surprised that his father mentioned something other than the opinion that he was an ungrateful child.

Saxon assessed him for a moment. "I see it now. You've got the best parts of their features."

"I wouldn't say that," Brendan said modestly. "Used to look like a half-Italian camel. It wasn't very pretty."

"Nonsense," Saxon scoffed. "You're gorgeous."

"Not so bad yourself," Brendan complimented, enjoying the way the man's face lit up with amusement. "So, Powell's the next on your list? That's great. We need it."

"I'd raze this place to the ground if I could," Saxon muttered. "Suppose I'll make do with renovating it instead."

Brendan laughed politely. "You've got weird jokes for a politician."

"Oh, but I'm the only sensible one," Saxon cooed, leaning into his side with a charismatic smirk. "Every other bureaucrat is miserable and repressed. I do who and what I want, whenever I want."

A rush of warmth spread through Brendan's entire being, pooling around his face, and he quickly cleared his throat. "You got any family waiting for you?" he diverted clumsily.

"Oh no," Saxon's lips curled in distaste. "Not for a long time."

Brendan frowned. "Don't you miss them?"

"Not in the slightest," he replied automatically. "But there is someone waiting for me. I promised him a midnight rendezvous." He winked at Brendan. "I won't tell anyone if you don't."

"Sorry?" Brendan said tensely.

"Your secret is safe with me," Saxon cackled as Brendan spied around the roof, an irrational fear gripping at his chest, in case someone was present to catch Saxon's surprising insight. There were things nobody knew about Brendan, things he didn't want them to know, lest he get chased out like the last unfortunate guy.

The man rose from the plateau, distracting Brendan as he cracked the kinks out of his neck, and looked down at him. "Brendan Ambrosi," he drawled, rolling the name off his tongue, pressing a hand to Brendan's cheek and rubbing the underside of his jaw. "Happy New Year."

Brendan nodded numbly, so captivated by this strange politician that he didn't bother correcting his surname. "Yeah," he murmured softly. "Happy New Year."

With an incline of his head, Harold Saxon turned away and strode out of the exit. Brendan watched him go in silent amazement, pondering over the mysterious politician. He was still mulling over the man when the fireworks started streaming into the sky a few minutes later, casting it aglow with a plethora of shapes and bright colours.

People cheered and screamed at the top of their lungs, and Brendan admired the fireworks, tapping his fingers to a persisting rhythm in his head.

He hoped that he'd meet Harold Saxon again one day.

* * *

**A/N:** A short interlude to provide a little more insight into the life of the Ambrosi-Jackman clan, and their dynamics with other residents on the Powell Estate. We'll be revisiting this family a lot over the course of the story, in line with the RTD era's stressed importance on family dynamics, but as teased by the appearance of Mr Saxon himself, we'll be moving on with adventures in the next chapter!

As an aside, Mickey's mates Sally, Mook and Patrique are all featured characters from RTD's novelisation of _ Rose, _ and Dilys is an elderly widow from the New Series Adventures novel  _ Winner Takes All. _


	4. School Reunion

In hindsight, Brendan should have learned by now that falling asleep on the rooftop would only result in him being late to school.

He considered this pitifully as he stumbled through the school corridor, running one hand through his bedraggled hair while using the other to tuck his shirt into his trousers, all while attempting to stuff stray papers and revision textbooks into his overflowing bag.

It certainly wasn't his finest moment, but at least it couldn't get any worse.

"You, boy!"

Scratch that, it just got worse. Brendan groaned quietly to himself as Headmaster Finch's footsteps became more prominent behind him. He turned around to face the eagle-eyed man, already dreading the inevitable lecture.

"Yes, sir?" Brendan mumbled.

"Tuck your shirt in properly," Finch demanded. "What school do you think this is?"

"Yes, sir," Brendan obliged tonelessly. As soon as his shirt was tucked reasonably, he turned to leave.

"Just a moment," Finch said haltingly. "Look at me, boy."

Brendan barely suppressed a sigh as he complied.

"Good, now tell me — why aren't you in lessons?" Finch leered down at him menacingly, sending prickles of goosebumps along Brendan's skin. He hadn't been headmaster for long, but there was something unsettling about his demeanour.

"I…"

"Well?" Finch broached, eyebrows raised expectantly. There was an amused gleam in his eyes. Like every other teacher, Brendan realised that Mr Finch loved to watch students make fools of themselves.

"That would be my fault!" a cheery voice interjected. Brendan turned to identify his heroic saviour, and tensed in surprise. Striding towards him was the Doctor, clad in his familiar suit and converses, grinning like a fool. "This lad had a free study period, and I asked him to help me shoulder some equipment for my next class, hence his… bedraggled appearance. Isn't that right, boy?"

Unable to form any words, Brendan simply nodded blindly.

"Mr Smith," said Mr Finch tersely. "Whyever am I not surprised?"

"Predictable, that's me," the Doctor said smoothly, smiling down at the stunned Brendan.

"Tell me, what equipment did you have transferred?"

"Oh, you know; bunsen burners, beakers, test tubes, standard physics stuff." The Doctor held up his battered briefcase, as if to demonstrate his point, shooting Finch a dazzling grin.

"I see." Finch bowed his head beseechingly, and departed without another word. Brendan watched him leave, before turning back to gape at the Doctor, mystified by his presence.

"You'll catch flies if you keep that up," the Doctor quipped teasingly. "Pleased to see me?"

"What are you doing here?" Brendan blurted, and the Doctor looked taken aback by the sudden question. "I mean, it's been months," he hastily amended.

"Really?" the Doctor frowned thoughtfully. "Only been a couple weeks for me."

Brendan stared at the Doctor as if he'd sprouted another head, but quickly shrugged it off. He was talking to the madman who sparred with aliens on a daily basis, after all. "But how comes you're here?" he pressed. "Is it aliens?"

"No," the Doctor scoffed at the thought. "I'm temporarily replacing Mrs Mehru, that's all."

"Why?"

"What is this, twenty-one questions?" the Doctor squeaked defensively. "I just am!"

Brendan frowned in puzzlement. "You told me you could go anywhere you wanted."

"I can!"

"So, you can do all that, and you decided to come here?" His lips curled into a sceptical frown. He didn't believe the Doctor's vehement nod for a second.

"It's quite strange," the Doctor said swiftly. "Bumping into you again."

"Yeah," Brendan said dryly. "Amazing that I happened to be at my own school."

"Well," the Doctor drawled, tugging on his ear thoughtfully. "London's a relatively big place." He looked away and mumbled something under his breath. Brendan didn't catch all of it, but he caught 'human terms'.

"Probably just a coincidence," Brendan offered with a shrug.

"Still," the Doctor hummed knowingly. "What lesson do you have next?"

"Physics with Mrs Meh —" Brendan started before he caught himself. "Oh." He scowled when the Doctor grinned smugly. "Did you plan this?"

"Nope," the Doctor said happily. "Just another happy coincidence. Come on, then." He led the way down the hall, swinging his briefcase back and forth with a chipper pep in his step; begrudgingly, Brendan followed, eyeing the alien with mild suspicion. The Doctor was undoubtedly a fascinating individual, but the last time Brendan had seen him was on the most exciting — and dangerous — day of his life. And he certainly didn't buy the claim that he was at Deffry Vale by chance.

They'd just reached the classroom door when Brendan's mind caught up with him. "Wait!" he cried out, and the Doctor whirled around instantly.

"What is it?" he asked seriously, eyes darting around the hallway suspiciously.

"I gotta walk in first," Brendan stated matter-of-factly.

"What?" the Doctor said in utter bemusement. "Why?"

"You can't walk in the same time as a teacher," Brendan hissed. "It's just weird."

His response was clearly not what the Time Lord had expected, as his frown only deepened, but he quickly heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Oh, go on, then."

Brendan smirked at his small victory, and flounced into the classroom, making his way to the very end of the classroom and patiently collapsing into the nearest seat. Approximately five seconds later, timed perfectly with the bell, the Doctor stalked in and set his briefcase on the table.

"Good morning, class," he said cheerfully, seeking out Brendan with his bespectacled eyes. "Are we sitting comfortably?"

His question was met with a stony silence, and Brendan couldn't help but laugh into his shoulder. The Doctor simply whirled around, unperturbed, and started to scrawl something onto the whiteboard.

"So, physics," he hummed, underlining the written word and tossing it onto the desk as he turned to address the class. "Physics, eh?" He started to rattle off the word absentmindedly, staring up at the ceiling as he did so. Brendan frowned at him, wondering what the alien's concept of teaching entailed.

"I hope one of you's getting all this down," the Doctor muttered, before jumping energetically into the lesson. "Okay, let's see what you know. Two identical strips of nylon are charged with static electricity and hung from a string so they can swing freely. What would happen if they were brought near each other?"

On most days, Brendan hated himself for succumbing to parental pressure and choosing physics as an A Level subject, but today, he was just perplexed as to why they were being taught GCSE level questions.

"Anybody got the answer? Mr Brendan, perhaps?" the Doctor teasingly waggled his eyebrows at him, but Brendan emphatically shook his head, cringing when everybody turned curiously in his direction. Fortunately, someone else raised their hand, and the Doctor turned to them. "Yes! Er, what's your name?"

"Milo," the student replied.

"Milo, off you go!"

"They'd repel each other because they have the same charge," Milo replied, sounding bored. Brendan couldn't blame him.

"Correctamundo!" the Doctor suddenly proclaimed, and Brendan inwardly cringed, casting him a disappointed look. The Doctor caught his eye and looked away awkwardly. "A word I've never used before and hopefully never will again," he added, almost defensively, before barrelling onwards, "Question two — I coil up a thin piece of nichrome wire and place it in a glass of water, then I turned on the electricity and measure to see if the water temperature's affected. My question is this — how do I measure the electrical power going into the coil?"

Again, Milo's hand shot up. The Doctor frowned at his eagerness, and looked to Brendan as another possible candidate. Brendan shook his head, mouthing the word' 'no', so the Doctor opened the question up to everybody else, before reluctantly turning back to Milo after receiving a frigid reception. Brendan smirked, amused by the display. He clearly didn't understand nineteen-year-olds; even if they held the answers, they'd never grace the teacher with such a reprieve.

"You measure the current and PD using an ammeter and voltmeter," Milo answered, grounding Brendan in the present.

"Two to Milo! Now then, Milo, tell me this — true or false, the greater the damping of a system, the quicker it loses energy to its surroundings?"

"False," Milo replied before Brendan could do so much as blink. The pair continued like that for a while, verbally sparring over the volley of questions, even after everybody else lost themselves and the Doctor moved onto questions that far exceeded the capacity of A Level students. Brendan shifted uncomfortably; the lesson had quickly evaporated into an interrogation.

"Sixty-five thousand, nine hundred and eighty-three times five?" the Doctor said rapidly.

"Three hundred and twenty-nine thousand, nine hundred and fifteen," Milo supplied without the slightest trace of hesitance. Brendan sat up a little straighter at that point; how could anybody answer that so quickly? Even geniuses needed a moment to work it out, surely? He looked to the Doctor in askance, but the man looked equally stumped.

"How do you travel faster than light?"

"By a quantum tunnel with an FTL factor of thirty-six-point-seven recurring."

Brendan felt a chill run down his spine. The guy was like a robot.

"In Simple Harmonic Motion and Damping, critical damping is obtained how?" the Doctor demanded.

"When the amplitude of oscillation decreases as quickly as possible without overshooting the equilibrium position," Milo said. The Doctor moved to interrogate him further, but the boy suddenly went rigid and pitched over his desk.

It all happened so quickly that it took Brendan a second to react. Finally, he surged out of his chair and hurried to the boy, but the Doctor was already by his side.

"Milo? Milo, are you okay? Can you hear me?" the Doctor said.

"What's happened?" Brendan asked. Students started to clamour together, whispering amongst themselves. "Is he okay?"

The Doctor rubbed at his eye in frustration. "I might have pushed him too far."

"It's steroids, sir," a boy crowed — Brendan dimly recognised him as a Luke-something or a Lance — and the entire class burst into laughter. Feeling indignation on Milo's behalf, Brendan threw one of the prone boy's arms over his shoulders, heaving him out of the chair. The boy weighed more than Brendan had expected, and he realised with mild horror that they were both going to tumble to the floor, but the Doctor caught him by the waist and steadied him, saving both students from unending mockery.

"It's okay, I've got you," the Doctor said soothingly, moving his arm from Brendan's waist to throw Milo's other arm across his own shoulders. "Nurse's office, right?"

Brendan nodded, and led the way out of the classroom. They stumbled through the empty corridor, dragging the stiff boy between them, ignoring the crowds that flocked to classroom windows to peer intently at them. "What did you mean?" Brendan inquired. "When you said you might've pushed him too far?"

"Too many questions across a short time-frame, it'd overload anyone," the Doctor replied, shifting his weight to steady Milo a little easier. "You were quick on your feet to help him out," he noted.

"I couldn't just sit there," Brendan protested.

"Course not," the Doctor sniffed, the corners of his lips pulling into a fond grin. "Good on you, Brendan." Milo groaned softly then, and the Doctor directed his attention to him. "There you go! Still with us! How far to the nurse?"

"Almost there," Brendan mumbled.

The pair finally stopped in front of the nurse's office, and the Doctor kicked at the closed door. A rather severe-looking woman flung it open a moment later, staring them down with beady eyes. Brendan was taken aback by her presence. The last time he'd been at the nurse's office, it was occupied by a warm, chatty woman.

"This boy needs to be seen to," the Doctor said commandingly, handing the bundle into her waiting arms. "He was answering questions in lessons and then he just passed out," he clicked his fingers, "snap, like that. He's not so bad now, but I think that maybe you should have a look at — oh."

The nurse wordlessly looked down at Milo, and then slammed the door in the Doctor and Brendan's faces.

"She just slammed the door in my face," the Doctor gasped, his voice squeakier and indignant. "That's just… rude! Does she do that a lot?"

"I dunno," Brendan said with a shrug. "Never seen her before."

The Doctor turned to him sharply at that. "Really?" He grabbed Brendan by the elbow and dragged him away from the office, ignoring the protests. "So she's new, then?" he asked conversationally.

"Yeah, probably," Brendan managed, pulling out of the Doctor's grasp. "I can walk!"

"What about anyone else?" the Doctor questioned. "Do students collapse often?"

"I don't know." When the Doctor looked at him sceptically, Brendan hastily added, "I've been busy! My A Levels are soon!"

"Humans," the Doctor muttered sourly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Brendan inquired, bristling at the degrading comment.

"You're always missing the obvious," the Doctor said snidely. "Too busy thinking about yourselves."

"Hey, it's alright for you, you're an alien," Brendan scowled defensively. "This is for my life. I can't mess them up."

The Doctor had the decency to look chastised. "Just keep an eye out for anything peculiar, alright?" he said snappishly.

"Okay," Brendan agreed placatingly, eyeing the apprehensive man cautiously. "Why are you here, Doctor?"

The Doctor simply walked off. Brendan had no choice but to follow reluctantly. He was starting to realise how difficult the man could be.

After physics came the blissful trill of the school bell, signalling lunchtime. Brendan was one of the first to leave the classroom, making a beeline for the school exit to pick up some lunch, relishing the perks of being a sixth former. Realising that he wasn't especially peckish, he bought a sandwich and some crisps and returned to the school dining hall, seeking out an empty table to sit at.

He was in the middle of reviewing his mother's script for her upcoming event when someone slid fluidly into the chair opposite him. He looked up to find the grinning Doctor, pursed his lips, and returned his attention to the script.

"What's that face for?" the Doctor whined. He was poking at a chip, but Brendan could practically feel his burning gaze.

"I'm a bit busy," he mumbled, striking out a sentence on his mother's itinerary and scrawling a suggestion.

"Really?" the Doctor said dubiously.

"Yup," Brendan said dryly. "Probably a bit too human for you." It was petty, he knew that, but he'd be lying if he didn't relish the cathartic sensation.

"Yes, alright," the Doctor sighed, registering the not-so-subtle jab. "I suppose I was a bit harsh."

Brendan leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. "So you're apologising?"

"Mm." The Doctor popped a chip in his mouth, before grimacing and staring at the one he'd skewered with his fork, twirling it thoughtfully.

"Say it," Brendan said abruptly. The Doctor looked up, his face creased with baffled perplexment.

"Sorry?"

Brendan struggled to keep his expression and tone stern. "Say you're sorry."

"Oh, does it need saying?" the Doctor complained, but Brendan didn't budge. "Fine," he huffed begrudgingly. "I'm sorry."

Brendan grinned. "Cheers."

"Humans," the Doctor grumbled. "You're so petty."

Before Brendan could dispute the point, a dinner lady strolled up to their table, rubbing lazily at the surface as she furiously whispered into the Doctor's ear. "Two days."

"Sorry, could you just…?" the Doctor said, pointing at the table with his fork. "There's a bit of gravy." The woman dutifully wiped away the stain, but again the Doctor complained. "No, no, just there."

"Two days we've been here," the woman hissed again as she finally scrubbed out the gravy stain.

"Blame your boyfriend, he's the one that put us on to this," the Doctor said nonchalantly.

"Now who's the petty one?" Brendan challenged, and the woman finally registered his presence.

"Alright, trouble?" she said with a grin, and Brendan belatedly realised that it was Rose, in a dinner lady's smock. "How's things?"

"Good," Brendan stuttered dumbly. "I didn't realise you were… uh..."

"What?" Rose said sharply.

"... here as well," he hastily concluded, hoping that his hesitance didn't show too much; nevertheless, Rose looked distinctly unimpressed with him.

"Where I go, she goes," the Doctor interjected helpfully.

"Like Batman and Robin," Brendan noted.

The Doctor smiled in amusement. "Or Shiver and Shake." He laughed slightly at the thought, before returning to the matter at hand. Even now, he switched between emotions so easily. "But he was right — Mickey. Boy in class this morning — got knowledge way beyond planet Earth. Just ask Brendan."

"It was freaky," Brendan admitted when Rose turned to him curiously. "He answered all these questions without stopping."

"Next minute, slam, he goes and collapses, right in front of me," the Doctor concluded.

"I used to try that, every time I had French," Rose admitted, disinterested in their story. She nodded at the Doctor's tray. "You eating those chips?" She picked at the chips before she even finished her question, making Brendan smile.

"Yeah, they're a bit… different," the Doctor grimaced.

"I think they're gorgeous," Rose sighed happily, offering some to Brendan as she sat between the pair. He accepted a handful and bit into one, eyes widening as he silently agreed. "I wish I had school dinners like this."

"I should try school lunch more often," Brendan noted quietly.

"It's very well behaved, this place," the Doctor noted.

Rose hummed in agreement. "I reckon Sofia wouldn't send ol' Brendan anywhere else." She grinned at the boy in question, tongue poking between her teeth. Brendan returned the smile, albeit sheepishly.

"He's the exception to the rule," the Doctor mused. "But still, I thought there'd be happy slapping hoodies. Happy slapping hoodies with ASBOs. Happy slapping hoodies with ASBOs and ringtones." He nodded at them, seemingly very proud of himself. "Oh, yeah. Don't tell me I don't fit in."

Brendan and Rose shared an eye roll at his antics. "So, that's why you're here?" he inquired curiously. "Mickey called you guys in?"

"Yup," Rose confirmed. "We're still trying to figure it out, though. But never mind that, how're you? How's home?"

"It's alright," Brendan shrugged. "Shareen met some dude from Essex. And Mickey and the band split up."

"No way!" Rose gasped, but her eyes were already curiously fixed on his paperwork. "How come?"

"Everyone moved on," Brendan said ruefully. "Sally's an ambassador for some transgender thing nowadays, really high-end up stuff, she's doing good for herself. And Mook and Patrique live in Brighton now. Your mum threw them all this huge going away party. Half the estate was invited."

"I bet she did," Rose murmured distantly. It was clear that his words fell on deaf ears. She picked up the paper he'd been editing and scanned over it with a wistful smile. "What's Wonder Sof got up her sleeve this time?"

"Wonder what?" the Doctor blinked owlishly, cutting across Brendan before he could explain.

"That's what us lot call his mum," Rose explained with a grin. "She's an independent events organiser. Runs the little hall by the pub. I used to work for her, when she had stuff going."

"Really?" the Doctor exclaimed, eyes lit up in impressed surprise. "No wonder you're so helpful!"

"You guys could come," Brendan offered. "It's tonight."

"Oh, I'd love to," Rose said sincerely, "but we've got stuff to do."

"You are not permitted to leave your station during a sitting," said a new voice, as a shadow fell over the table, and all three looked up to find a real dinner lady staring distastefully down at them, as if their very existence was an affront to her eyes.

Rose stood up immediately. "I was just talking to these two."

"Hello," the Doctor waved cheerily, and Brendan managed a nod. The woman wrinkled her nose crudely at them.

"He doesn't like the chips," Rose whispered conspiratorially.

"And this one?" the dinner lady demanded, fixing her beady stare on Brendan.

"Got my own food," he replied, holding up his sandwich in demonstration.

She bristled angrily at that, directing her self-righteous fury at Rose. "The menu has been specifically designed by the headmaster to improve concentration and performance." The dinner lady glared down at Brendan as if he'd committed bloody murder. "The meals are compulsory for all pupils," she stressed, before flicking her cold glower to the Doctor. "The teachers can do as they please. If you don't like it, bring a bun. Now, get back to work."

She sneered cruelly at the trio a final time, before marching away purposefully.

"Damn," Brendan exhaled. "Who needs enemies? I'd hate it if she was my boss."

"Well, that's my life," Rose twirled unhappily. "This is me — dinner lady."

"I'll have the crumble!" the Doctor called after her retreating form.

"I'm so gonna kill you," Rose called back with an exasperated chuckle. Brendan laughed at their hijinks.

"Definitely Batman and Robin," he hummed, turning to the Doctor with a curious frown. "Have you really been here for two days?"

"Yup," the Doctor confirmed.

"I never saw you," he mused, realising how absorbed he'd really been in his exam prep. "Why didn't you just say you were here because of freaky stuff?"

"I didn't wanna worry you!" the Doctor exclaimed. He was staring thoughtfully at another chip.

"Well, I'll keep an eye out," Brendan offered as he rose from his chair. "Let you know if I see anything."

"Where are you going?" the Doctor asked curiously.

"Still got stuff to do." Brendan waved his documents around to prove his point. "And then I gotta do revision."

The Doctor cringed at the thought. "Fine, do what you want."

"That's not the best teacher attitude," Brendan said teasingly, growing more thoughtful. "What do the other teachers even call you?"

"The Doctor," he replied innocently.

Brendan quirked a sceptical brow. "Really?"

"Nah, they call me John Smith," the Doctor grinned sagely, as if he was imparting Brendan with a holy secret. "Mind you, I was half-tempted to go with Mr Chesterton. Good ol' Chesterfield…"

"Yeah, alright, but how'd you get the job?" Brendan pressed. "You gotta have ID and grades, right?"

"I've got psychic paper," the Doctor said conspiratorially. "Lets them see whatever I want them to see. Most of the time."

"Right," Brendan said, unsure of whether he believed the alien or not. "But you gotta be checked and stuff, right? Make sure you're not a creep?"

"You don't half-ask some loaded questions," the Doctor grumbled. "Brendan, I just got the job, let's leave it at that."

"Alright!" Brendan raised his hands in a mock-placating gesture. "Was just asking."

"And I'm not a creep!" the Doctor added.

Brendan finished stuffing the papers into his bag and smiled at the Doctor. "Course not."

"I'm not!" the Doctor spluttered after his retreating form. Brendan was laughing so hard at the indignation in the alien's tone that he almost collided with his new IT teacher, Mr Wagner, who briefly shot him a dirty glare before pushing past him.

Brendan didn't pay him any attention, refocusing on his mum's script as he ambled to the library, determined to finish his revisions before lunchtime was over.

The revisions on the script and overall exam study had been carried out with such efficiency that when Brendan finally sought out the time, he realised that he'd spent the entire lunch break and final period completing his work. He sighed, grateful that his final lesson of the day had been a free study hour, and packed up his things. Slinging his bag across his shoulders, he shot a smile at the long-suffering librarian, and stepped out of the library, colliding with a teacher in the process.

"Sorry," he said automatically, before eyeing the unmistakable brown pinstripe suit with a furrowed brow.

"It's alright," mumbled the Doctor. Brendan looked up, taken aback by his dazed, faraway smile.

"You okay, Doctor?" he queried, and the Doctor responded with a confirming hum. "I haven't seen anything strange," Brendan admitted. "Been busy all afternoon."

To his surprise, the Doctor didn't so much as blink. Brendan's eyebrows shot up at that; he'd been half-expecting an exasperated jibe.

"I did see a little green-eyed squid thing running around in a tutu, though," he threw in nonchalantly, just to see if he could get a rise.

"They tried invading Earth once," the Doctor hummed distractedly. "Targeted commercial products at the height of dance. We stopped them."

Brendan tilted his head in confusion, unable to tell if he was joking or not. "What's up with you, Doctor?"

"Hmm?" the Doctor looked down at him, and his eyes finally cleared. "Yes. Yes! Sorry. What were you saying?"

Brendan drew out a bemused sigh. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

The Doctor frowned. "No… still!" he exclaimed with a burst of energy, startling Brendan into a jump. "With any luck, we'll hopefully find what we're looking for tonight."

"What do you mean? What's tonight?"

The Doctor shot him an indulgent smile, before trotting off down the corridor. Brendan watched him leave, wondering how the man had succeeded in confusing him further with a cryptic non-answer. He didn't dwell on it for long, instead making his way down the opposite corridor and up the stairs towards the sixth form common room, eager to grab a textbook he'd forgotten and leave school behind for the day.

Rounding a corner, Brendan trudged through the hallway automatically, pausing suddenly when he heard an unusual sound. He glanced to his left, spotting an open classroom door, where the noise seemed to be originating from.

He frowned as he ducked inside, surveying the darkened room with consternation; he conceded that the day had been warm, perhaps excessively so, but that didn't warrant for every blind to be drawn. His frown only deepened when the noise grew more fervent as he slowly edged through the room, his pulse thrumming under his skin. It had only just occurred to him that the Doctor was in pursuit of something odd, and now he was diving headfirst into a room with exactly that.

He was startled from his thoughts when his foot hit the edge of a desk. The noise had reached a crescendo, and the origin of the noise was unmistakably right below him. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Brendan crouched down, peering into the gloom.

Only to freeze into place.

A giant creature screeched at him. He didn't manage to get a good look before it reared up and Mr Wagner stood in its place, glaring balefully down at him. "Two interruptions in one day," the teacher said smoothly. "Leave. Now."

The forceful tone was enough to get Brendan moving. He scrambled to his feet and darted out the room, risking a glance back as he thundered through the corridor and down the stairs, almost missing a step in his haste to escape. The stony-faced teacher didn't seem to be pursuing him, but he crashed into something before he could release a breath of relief, crying out in surprise.

"Oh!" the woman he'd crashed into yelped, gripping onto his arms. Brendan tried to wrench free of her grasp in a panicked haze, but the woman simply held onto him firmly. "It's alright," she said soothingly. "It's okay."

The gentle words calmed him down fractionally, just enough for him to assess her properly. It was an older woman, late forties by his estimate, dressed in rather smart clothes. She had big, bright brown eyes — comforting and full of life — that eased the tension in Brendan's shoulders.

"Are you alright?" the woman asked, tone full of unbridled concern, and perhaps a little bit of caution, if he wasn't mistaken.

"Yeah," Brendan gulped, tossing a glance over his shoulder to make sure they were alone. "Yeah, I'm fine."

The woman looked unconvinced, following his gaze smartly. "Are you running from someone?"

Brendan was suddenly struck by her unfamiliarity, and glanced down at her outfit. "You don't work here," he noted, wincing at the unsubtle suspicion in his tone.

The woman briefly frowned disapprovingly, but humoured him nonetheless. "I'm a journalist," she explained. "Sarah Jane Smith. I was doing a profile on your headmaster, Mr Finch? Actually, I was wondering if you could answer a few questions. It would be good to get the student perspective —"

"Look, I'm sorry, but I really gotta go," he said abruptly, already starting to move away. He had to find the Doctor or Rose, and warn them of his discovery. He spilled out of the school, pushing through the crowd of students in search of the alien hunters, desperately scanning the masses for the familiar blonde hair or lanky figure, but neither sprang to view. His hope dwindled with every passing minute, and eventually his shoulders slumped in disappointment.

Casting a glance behind him, Brendan spotted Mr Wagner through an upstairs window, regarding him with cold apathy, and he ran without a second thought. This time, he didn't look back until he was out the school gates and at the bus stop.

The moment the Powell Estate came into view, a wave of relief crashed through Brendan. He surged through the courtyard and up the stairs, the safety of his house presenting itself as he reached the door. Fumbling with the key in the lock, he tripped inside and slammed the door shut, resting his head against the wood for a moment, willing his ragged breathing to calm. He was safe. That was all that mattered.

"The hell are you doing?"

The unexpected question was enough to make Brendan roll his eyes, and he turned to find Nathan staring at him strangely. "Pretending you don't exist," he replied dryly.

It was Nathan's turn to roll his eyes. "Mum already left," he revealed offhandedly as he moved into the living room, already deciding a round of verbal sparring wasn't worth it. He was doing that a lot nowadays. Brendan supposed he was finally maturing. "She left me all the pasta, though. You can't have any."

And every time Brendan reached that conclusion, he would have it tugged from under his feet by a childish comment. "You need to watch it," he advised mockingly as he collapsed on the sofa. "You're gonna get fat."

"Shut up," Nathan huffed. Brendan smirked, smugly appreciative that he'd struck his brother at his weak point. He eyed his brother's decidedly casual attire curiously.

"How come you're not dressed?" he inquired. "We gotta leave soon."

"I'm not going."

Brendan frowned at that. "Why not?"

Nathan looked away distractedly. "She grounded me, remember?"

"Yeah, so you don't go out with your friends," Brendan reminded him. "This is different. This isn't you boozing —"

"That was Mum's fault," Nathan grumbled.

"How?" When Nathan didn't answer immediately, he pressed insistently. "How?"

"It's obvious."

"Not really," Brendan countered. "Mum's done nothing for you to get all bitchy for no reason."

"It's her fault Dad's not here," Nathan said sullenly. Brendan slumped back, finally realising what the problem was. He wasn't quite sure when it had begun, but their parents had started arguing more frequently throughout the year, the tension ramping up more and more as time went on, carrying on through to the early hours of the morning. It had escalated to such a point that their father had been kicked out of the house, and was now sleeping over at a friend's. They'd been walking on eggshells ever since, deflecting the problem whenever somebody came close to mentioning it.

"So, that's it?" Brendan said dryly, severely underwhelmed by the admission. "You're pissed off cos Dad's not here?"

Nathan scowled at him. "I'm pissed off cos Mum kicked Dad out for no reason."

"You don't even know what happened," Brendan pointed out. "Why are you defending him?"

"You don't know, either," Nathan retorted, "but you're still defending her."

"You're still defending him," Brendan countered. "Even though Mum's done more for you."

"You're just saying that cos you hate Dad. Everyone knows it."

"I don't exactly keep it a secret," Brendan pointed out. "You should hate him, too."

"Why should I?" Nathan said sourly, eyebrows raised in challenge. Brendan exhaled deeply through his nose, averting his gaze. The ideology that nobody should be told how to feel about others was something he agreed with, but Nathan lacked his experiences, and refused to listen to anything he had to say about their father's nature. It was like talking to a brick wall. Sometimes, the four year difference between them was stifling.

He wanted to scream at his brother, and list off every single one of their father's flaws, but the last thing either of them needed was another quarrel, and it didn't help that his mind was focused on other matters. Swallowing his pride, Brendan wordlessly rose from the sofa and stalked into his room, pulling off his t-shirt with an annoyed huff.

He changed into his suit quickly, peering into the mirror to straighten his tie and fold his collar, before grabbing a purple binder from his bag. Nathan was still sat on the sofa by the time he left the room, glowering at him with muted anger, but Brendan simply stepped out of the flat, slamming the door behind him to illustrate a forgotten point.

The events hall was the only decent attraction on the Powell Estate. Wedged between the local pub and Ladbrokes, it was practically heaven sent — or a personal affront to working life — in the eyes of the public. It bore the same dull concrete exterior with many other Peckham buildings, having been transformed from a dysfunctional office, but the interior was wholly different.

Repainting and restructuring had been a laborious process for Sofia Ambrosi-Jackman, but she'd successfully renovated the crumbling foyer into a suitable reception. It was neutral and unassuming, painted in whites and reds, but Brendan liked to think that added to the charm.

The latest temporary receptionist behind the desk was a woman Brendan recognised as Keisha Selby, Rose's former best friend. Rumour was that she'd slept with Mickey during the year Rose had vanished, and neither had been able to live it down since. He'd always found that to be an unfortunate tragedy of living on the estate; once things were exposed, they spread like wildfire.

Keisha looked up and fixed him with a sincere grin. Brendan smiled shyly back, a little guilty that the main reason he was aware of Keisha in the first place was because he'd been ogling her older soldier brother for years.

"Alright, 'merican?" she greeted coyly. "Looking good."

"Thanks," Brendan said politely with a stiff nod of acknowledgement.

Keisha grinned pityingly, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she leaned back in her chair. "I'm only messing, kid. What can I do for ya?"

Brendan held up his binder. "Gotta give this to my mum."

Keisha nodded towards the main hall's entrance. "In there, doing the finishing touches. You're lucky, you made it before the main crowd."

Brendan thanked her and traipsed into the main hall, scouring the crowds of serving staff for his mother. His search was brought to an abrupt halt when Shareen stepped into his view, wielding a tray with expert professionalism.

"Look at you with your fancy digs," she cooed, waggling her eyebrows playfully. "What you hiding underneath there, huh?"

Brendan rolled his eyes, but it was more out of fond exasperation than anything else. Shareen had grown on him over the past two years. Maybe absence did make the heart grow fonder, after all. "Complete opposite to you," he commented lightly. "You're one step closer to joining the nuns."

Shareen cringed at the comment, waving her hand dismissively. "Don't even joke, babes. I don't even wanna think about it. I mean, imagine if you couldn't get it on with a girl ever again."

"I'll try not to," Brendan remarked dryly, offering her a small, sincere smile. "Still, though, you look smart."

"Anything for the cash, right?" Shareen mused rhetorically. "Your mum's been good to us."

"She always is," Brendan hummed in agreement. "Haven't seen her around, have you?"

"Down by the stage," Shareen jerked a thumb behind her. "Champagne?" she offered before he could walk off, drawing attention to her serving tray.

"Shareen!" Brendan hissed.

"What? You're legal, ain't ya?"

"Still…" Brendan uncertainly glanced at the champagne flutes, as if the bubbling liquid would froth up and engulf him. His ears turned pink the longer Shareen stared at him in absolute disbelief. "What?" he huffed defensively.

Without warning, Shareen burst into laughter. It was loud and unwarranted, drawing unwanted attention from the rest of the serving staff.

"Shut up," Brendan mumbled in embarrassment.

"Oh, that's too good," Shareen sighed contently, playfully slapping his cheek. "You're like a little kid."

"People are staring," Brendan whined, squirming from her grasp.

"Oh, come on!" Shareen said playfully. "It's just a bit of alky. What're you so worked up about?"

"It's nothing," Brendan said defensively. Shareen frowned at that, but thankfully dropped the subject. The abrupt departure from the conversation left an awkward silence as a result, and the pair shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to proceed.

"So, what're you doing here, anyway?" Shareen asked. It was clumsy and abrupt, but Brendan seized on the topic earnestly.

"Looking for my mum," he explained, holding up his binder in lieu of an explanation. Shareen nodded in understanding, to Brendan's relief. "Seen her?"

"Sure." Shareen jerked a thumb behind her. "By the stage last I checked."

Brendan nodded thankfully, and a little awkwardly, as he shuffled past her and headed for the stage, once again scanning the crowd for the familiar figure; eventually, he spied a rich purple dress amongst the black waiter outfits, and a smile spread across his face as he watched his mother confidently direct staff all around the hall. She looked indomitable, working in her element, juggling anything and everything with ease.

Sofia spotted him, wrapped up a conversation with Trisha Delaney, and moved over to him. "You're here!" she cooed, pulling him into a big hug.

"Course," Brendan said, pulling out of the embrace a moment later, waving the binder in the air. "I've looked it over."

"Perfect," Sofia cried delightedly, taking the offered binder and pulling out the revised manuscript, intently flicking through the pages. "Everything has to be just right tonight."

"It will be," Brendan assured her. "Everything looks good."

"Guests will be here soon," Sofia murmured, checking her watch. "If all goes well, I might be able to secure a paycheck from Harold. Give the staff a little extra to go home with. Maybe give this place a renovation…" She trailed off distantly, assessing her choices, and Brendan fondly shook his head.

"Everything's gonna go well," he repeated firmly. His mother shot him a grateful smile for his inherent faith, but it faded slightly as she peered over his shoulder. "Where's Nathan?"

Brendan scowled involuntarily at the unwanted reminder of his brother, and inadvertently their argument. "At home," he said curtly. "He didn't want to come."

Sofia frowned at that, and Brendan could tell that she was slightly disheartened. "He never used to do that," she mused distantly.

Brendan sighed begrudgingly. "I think you should talk to him," he advised.

"Maybe you're right," Sofia conceded. Brendan watched as she pulled out her phone, but before she could so much as dial, Keisha hurried over.

"The first guests have just pulled up," she announced breathlessly.

Sofia's eyes lit up. She thanked Keisha and pocketed her phone, turning around to ogle the stage considerately. "I have to double-check the sounds… and the table arrangements…" She absently turned to face him. "Help Keisha welcome the guests, please. Everything's gotta be perfect."

"Mamma —" Brendan tried to call out, but his mother had already walked away, lost in her usual haze of professionalism and perfectionism. He sighed wearily, accepted defeat and went about making himself useful.

The guests started to steadily stream into the venue, and the event soon got underway. People lounged around round tables, discussing campaigns over champagne. Servers milled around, catering and answering questions like the best of them. Brendan knew it was only because the guests had to save face that they were being so polite, but the mere sight of people from his estate behaving so professionally was strangely charming.

He moved away from the window, and directed his gaze upwards. Daylight had long since faded and night had taken its place, fringed by the moon. The outside world was a far cry from the polite atmosphere of the event, filled with arguments and laughter and traffic. Brendan slumped back against the wall, realising he very much preferred what the outside world had to offer.

A figure slid into place beside him, and Brendan flicked his gaze to take them in. He almost did a double-take and stumbled backwards when he realised Harold Saxon was smirking at him.

"Now, what's a gorgeous boy like you doing on a rowdy street like this?" Saxon asked, sotto voce, gesturing at the row of giggling drunks slowly stumbling out of the pub, his face twisted in a disgusted sneer.

Brendan kept his gaze on the politician, disproportionately shocked by his presence even though the event was in his honour. "Hi," he squeaked, before cringing inwardly at himself for the weak greeting.

Saxon seemed to pay it no mind, raising his hand to wave comically. "Hello," he said brightly. "It's Brendan, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Brendan said dazedly.

Saxon smirked coquettishly, inching closer to Brendan. "Brendan Ambrosi," he repeated, rolling his r's, and forgetting the 'Jackman' once again. "Tell me Brendan, do you wear that suit often?"

"Not really," Brendan said nervously, checking to make sure nobody was paying attention; thankfully everybody was too distracted by their own affairs.

"A pity," Saxon drawled, drawing Brendan's attention. His smile softened then, and he brushed some fluff off Brendan's blazer. "It's very fitting."

Brendan flushed at the close proximity and the compliment, suddenly keenly aware of the man's… aftershave? He smelled very nice. "I didn't realise you'd arrive later than the rest," he said in a clumsy attempt to divert the conversation.

"Oh, I love to make everyone wait," Saxon said coyly. "Keeps all eyes on me. But I don't have to worry about that with you." He fiddled with Brendan's tie, pulling him closer, and grinning when their eyes met.

There was something about the man that Brendan couldn't quite place, but it left him breathless and captivated by his presence. Saxon moved away from the tie, and brushed a hand against his cheek. He unconsciously leaned into the touch, enjoying the feel of the caress, before he remembered where he was and sharply pulled back.

Saxon remained remarkably unperturbed, gazing down at him with a curious stare. "There's something on your mind," he noted, almost as if he knew.

Brendan furrowed his brow. "How can you tell?"

Saxon tapped the side of his temple four times. "Instincts. You need to be able to read stupid bureaucrats in my profession."

The answer was logical, but Brendan felt his shoulders tense. Saxon was an incredibly affluent individual, and he didn't even want to think about the consequences for the revitalisation project or his mother's events if he started running his mouth off about the possibility of aliens performing a hostile takeover at his school. He'd sound like a nutjob.

He was startled from his thoughts when Saxon placed a firm hand on his shoulder, gazing into his eyes intently. "Tell me," the man implored sharply.

Brendan instantly relaxed, the tension leaving his shoulders as the words washed over him like a salve. "There's this guy I know," he said vaguely, unburdened by his past worries. "I think he's in danger. He doesn't know it but I do."

"And you haven't told him?" Saxon sounded strangely judgemental.

"I tried to," Brendan said defensively. "But I can't find him, and I dunno how to contact him."

"And it's been preying on your mind ever since," Saxon concluded wisely.

"Yeah," Brendan murmured, staring sadly up at the sky. "I just don't know what to do," he admitted shamefully.

"Well, it's obvious," Saxon scoffed, and Brendan turned to him, staring into those deeply confident eyes with hesitation. "Go look for him," he stated matter-of-factly.

"I don't know where," Brendan sighed.

"A smart boy like you?" Saxon said almost derisively, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "You'll be able to figure it out. You just need to think."

Brendan considered the words, and decided to indulge Saxon a little. He knitted his brows together, frowning in concentration, as he attempted to piece together everything he knew. He thought of Milo, and the way he'd collapsed after an intense exchange over something that felt uncomfortably like an interrogation. He thought of the nurse, aloof and disinterested by what they had to say. He thought of Mr Wagner, and the chilling secret he'd kept locked away in the IT room, his cold eyes promising death if he was to be interrupted again. He thought of the Doctor, with his anger and his plate of chips.

Brendan pitched forward slightly, his eyes alight with recognition. "I know where he is," he breathed.

Saxon smirked broadly, content with the answer. "You're too good for this estate, Brendan Ambrosi," he said sincerely.

Brendan flushed modestly at the compliment, but didn't dwell on it. "I've got to go find him," he said apologetically, gently prising Saxon's hand off his shoulder.

"Go," the man said simply. Brendan nodded determinedly and took off in the direction of the school. He cast one final glance at Harold Saxon, who waved him off, and smiled slightly to himself before he refocused on the school, hoping that he wasn't too late.

Deffry Vale looked completely different at night.

That was the first thought that went through Brendan's head as he crashed through the surprisingly open gates. It was stark and lifeless in the pale moonlight, and the direct juxtaposition from the usual hustle and bustle unsettled him. There was something distinctly wrong about an empty school.

He wasn't quite sure what the time was, but it had taken him roughly half an hour to get to the destination. His legs ached, his feet throbbing in the uncomfortable dress shoes, and a bead of sweat coursed down his face, unbidden in the hazy spring heat.

Taking large steps towards the entrance, Brendan suddenly realised he had no way of actually getting into the school. He paused, trying to piece together the next stage in his half-baked plan, when the heavy sound of footsteps made him pause.

Without warning, the entry doors burst open and four people spilled out into the school yard. Brendan jumped back in shock, heart thumping in his chest at the unexpected arrivals, calming only when he recognised Mickey, doubled over and panting.

Before he could make his presence known, Rose looked up at him and gawped. "What're you doing here?"

"Looking for you!" he replied incredulously, suddenly feeling quite useless now that they were out of harm's way. "There's this bat thing —"

"We know," Mickey interjected once he'd regained his breath. "We saw them."

"Them?" Brendan repeated nervously. "There's more?"

"Yeah, all your new teachers? They're aliens," Rose revealed casually. Brendan wasn't quite sure how to process the information, so he gave her a stilted nod.

"I wouldn't go in there," Mickey advised with unsubtle panic. "No way I am, even if you paid me."

"Guess you guys found what you were looking for, then?" Brendan inquired, still struggling to reconcile Rose's words with reality.

"Not yet," the Doctor announced, pushing past the other two to get to Brendan, his expression grave. "Tell me, Brendan — when exactly did Finch come to the school?"

"Er…" Brendan wracked his brain for a moment, slightly surprised by the lack of greeting. "January. Just after Christmas."

"He could have passed the missing teachers off as catching the flu," the Doctor murmured darkly. The severity of the situation hit Brendan in that moment. "Nobody would bat an eyelid. And when he arrived, he brought with him seven new teachers, four dinner ladies and a nurse. Thirteen. Thirteen big bat people."

"That many?" Brendan breathed, blindsided by the amount of aliens that had succeeded in inhabiting his school without detection for so long. "Wait, the nurse?"

"Yup," the Doctor enunciated, his frown quirking upwards ever-so-slightly. "Which explains her sunny disposition, come to think of it."

"You're telling me," Brendan murmured sourly, thinking back to the kind nurse that he had known, and worrying about what had become of her in the end.

The Doctor seemed to follow his train of thought. His expression hardened and he turned back towards the doors with a swish of his coat. "Come on," he said to his ragtag group. Brendan moved to follow him and Rose into the school without thought.

"Come on?! You've got to be kidding!" Mickey protested, halting everyone in their tracks. Brendan tossed a confused glance over his shoulder, and noticed that his panicked neighbour hadn't moved an inch.

"I need the TARDIS, I've got to analyse that oil from the kitchen," the Doctor explained calmly.

"I might be able to help you there," spoke up a familiar-looking woman that Brendan realised with a start was the same journalist who'd helped him earlier. She grabbed the Doctor by the arm and hauled him towards the car park. "I've got something to show you."

Brendan turned to Rose in askance, baffled by Sarah Jane's presence, but she looked like she was a stone's throw away from a nuclear explosion, so he turned to Mickey, who offered him a helpless shrug. Unsure of what else to do, he followed the Doctor and the mysterious journalist, flanked by the other two.

They all crowded around the back of a silver car, and Sarah Jane opened up the boot. He peered inside, underwhelmed to find nothing but a lumpy shape draped in a green blanket, but the Doctor yanked it away to reveal a drooping metal dog with a series of complicated buttons and antennas attached to its rusting form.

"K9!" the Doctor crowed delightedly, beaming away like a lottery winner. "Rose Tyler, Mickey Smith, Brendan —" he cut himself off abruptly, furrowing his brow in confusion.

"Ambrosi-Jackman," Brendan supplied helpfully.

"Allow me to introduce you to K9!" the Doctor continued without preamble. "Well, K9-mark-three to be precise."

Brendan regarded the toy dog, wondering why the Doctor was so excited to see it. It didn't look like anything special to him.

"Why does he look so… disco?" Rose asked, apparently sharing Brendan's bewilderment.

"Oi! Listen, in the year five thousand, this was cutting edge," the Doctor retorted defensively. Brendan shared a sceptical frown with Rose and Mickey, but the Doctor simply turned to Sarah Jane with concerned eyes. "What happened to him?"

"Oh, one day he just —" Sarah Jane made a tutting noise, shrugging to illustrate her point. "Nothing!"

"Well, didn't you try and get him repaired?" The Doctor looked put out, tenderly stroking the robot dog's motionless face. Brendan turned to an unimpressed Rose, struggling to stifle a laugh at the man's petulant tone.

"Well, it's not like getting parts for a mini metro," Sarah Jane countered indignantly. "Besides, technology inside him could rewrite human science. I couldn't show him to anyone!"

Brendan kneeled down beside Mickey, trying to determine what all the fuss was about. The dog looked more like something out of the 1970s than the 5000s.

"Ooh, what's the nasty lady done to you, eh?" the Doctor cooed, much like an owner to their pet. He continued petting the dysfunctional robot affectionately, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"I don't see the appeal," Brendan said truthfully, and the Doctor whipped his head towards him, utterly scandalised. "Sorry," he added self-consciously.

"I'll have you know that K9 has lots of appeal, Mr Ambrosi-Jackman," the Doctor said primly.

"If you say so," Brendan murmured, casting a wary eye at the rusting robot.

"Look, no offence, but could you two just stop petting for a moment?" Rose interrupted with the air of a beleaguered mother saddled with a bunch of unruly children. Brendan didn't miss the way she shot a dirty glare in the direction of the journalist, who reciprocated in kind. "Never mind the tin dog, we're busy."

"Well, we can't stand out here, we'd be too exposed," Sarah Jane spoke up, heading for the driver's seat.

"Yeah, I gathered," Rose said shortly.

Sarah Jane raised a frustrated hand. "Just pointing out the obvious."

"Good at that, aren't you," Rose muttered bitterly. It was boiling out, but suddenly the temperature dropped a few degrees. Brendan glanced nervously between the two women, soaking in their obvious acrimony for each other. He looked to Mickey, who again offered him little more than a helpless shrug.

"Right!" the Doctor said cheerfully, clearly trying his hardest to defuse the tension. "Sarah's right, we're too exposed out here. We have to move to a more secure location."

"Such as?" Mickey spoke up.

"Such as, not here," the Doctor said smartly.

"Alright, you two, save it for later, yeah?" Rose ironically cut in before the bickering could escalate. "We don't want to attract attention, do we?"

"Good idea," Brendan said a little-too-loudly, eager to just get past the arguing. Sarah Jane wordlessly slid into the driver's seat, while Rose and Mickey clambered into the back, sharing a conversation in hushed tones.

The Doctor reluctantly closed the boot and ducked past Brendan to get to the passenger seat, tossing an expectant glance across his shoulder as he did so. "Coming?"

Brendan blinked blankly, surprised by the unexpected invitation. He had only really dove headfirst into the school to warn them about Mr Wagner, and didn't really have anything of value to provide to the group — but at the same time, he was painfully curious to learn more; more about the aliens, more about this life, and more about the Doctor.

In the end, the answer was obvious. "Yeah."

The Doctor nodded, and slid into the passenger seat properly. Brendan crawled into the back, forcing Rose to budge up a little so they could all fit comfortably.

"Where to?" Sarah Jane asked once they were all comfortable.

"We'll decide when we see it," the Doctor said decisively.

"What, and just keep driving until we do?" Rose pointed out in a bitter undertone. "That'll take us ages, and we're strapped for time, in case you haven't noticed."

"Well, I'm open to suggestions if you've got any better ideas," the Doctor quipped back, and Brendan didn't miss the way Sarah Jane's lips twitched into a nostalgic smile.

"Actually," Brendan spoke up, "I think I know where we can go."

La Luna Coffee House was a quaint twenty-four hour Italian café just off the Peckham high street. It was the first place that had employed Brendan's mother when she'd moved to the UK, and he could fondly recall growing up in the homely shop, subject to many savoury chicken paninis throughout his upbringing.

The journey getting there was tense. The atmosphere between Rose and Sarah Jane was frigid at best, and the Doctor was fiddling with his pockets, muttering random words aloud periodically, which didn't help matters. It was a relief to Brendan when the car was finally parked outside the café fifteen minutes later, and he was the first to stumble out.

"This the place?" Rose asked as she sidled up beside him, eyeing the coffee shop with distaste.

"Don't knock it," Brendan said, "it's a great place."

"Looks nice," Rose conceded. "What're they selling?"

"Chips," Brendan said simply, smiling to himself when Rose perked up considerably.

"That's me convinced," she said brightly, and he grinned at her.

"Brendan, Mickey, give me a hand," the Doctor called out, and Brendan turned to see him by the boot of the car again.

"Why?" Mickey asked, staring at K9 with a surprising degree of suspicion.

The Doctor turned to him with mild irritation clear on his face. "He's not going to bite you, Mickey!"

"I never said he was!"

"Are they always like this?" Brendan whispered to Rose, who offered him a resigned nod. Taking pity on her, he moved forward and grabbed the back of K9's metal body. The Doctor and Mickey followed suit, each grabbing another section of the surprisingly hefty dog.

"Got it?" the Doctor asked bracingly. Brendan nodded. "On the count of three, we move him."

"Is that to three or from three?" Mickey asked dumbly, and Brendan couldn't help but laugh.

"Mickey!" the Doctor said with sharp exasperation.

"I was just asking!"

The pair's bickering eventually petered off, and the trio were able to haul K9 into the café without any further disruptions. The shop was blissfully empty, and Brendan was grateful that they didn't have to endure any stray judgemental glances. Sarah Jane and Rose followed them inside, pulling two tables together, and they gently set K9 down.

"What're you gonna do?" Rose asked, vocalising the question preying on Brendan's mind.

The Doctor reached into his pocket and pulled out a large coil of wire and a screwdriver, flipping the screwdriver and catching it expertly. "I'm gonna repair him."

Brendan frowned at him. "Did you just have that in your pockets?" he crowed in surprise.

"Yup," the Doctor drawled.

"How'd you fit the wire in there?" he continued curiously.

The Doctor looked at him disapprovingly. "They're bigger on the inside," he replied simply.

Brendan's eyebrows shot up sceptically at that. "Sure they are."

"They are," the Doctor insisted.

"Even if I believed that, how's a bit of wire gonna help it — I mean him?" Brendan pointed out pessimistically.

"Hey, don't knock it," Sarah Jane said firmly. "I've seen him work miracles with less than that."

"I bet you have," Rose muttered loud enough for them all to hear.

"You lot going to order?" the cashier called out warily, breaking through the awkward atmosphere.

"Rose, Mickey, Brendan, go keep yourselves occupied." The Doctor wedged the screwdriver between his teeth and dismissively waved them away. Mildly surprised by the brush-off, he sought out the reactions of Rose and Mickey, but the pair had already wandered over to the counter. Casting one last look at the Doctor, who had settled onto a chair beside Sarah Jane, muttering lowly to her as he pulled K9's chassis off to reveal a mesh of wires, he joined the other two.

"Is he usually so hot-and-cold?" Brendan wondered aloud.

"Oh yeah," Mickey said automatically, a smug grin pulling at his lips.

"No," Rose countered sharply, glowering at Mickey.

"Oh! Hello, Brendan, love!" the cashier, a bleary-eyed middle-aged woman, greeted as soon as she clapped eyes on Brendan "It's been a while."

"Hey, Aunt Peggy," Brendan smiled, comforted by the familiar presence. La Luna's never changed. "Late shift?"

"You know how it is," she griped. Brendan nodded knowingly. "You look smart."

"Thanks." He looked down at his attire. "Been a busy day."

"I hear you." Peggy leaned forward, smiling warmly. "What can I get for you, my lovelies? On the house."

"Really?" Rose exclaimed, sound more sceptical than she probably intended to. She quickly looked away, embarrassed. "I mean —"

Peggy simply laughed, waving it off. "We'll manage, dear. Any friend of Brendan is a friend of ours."

"In that case, I'll have chips, thanks."

"I'll have an espresso, ta," Mickey chimed in.

Peggy nodded, and turned to Brendan. "What about you, love?"

"Chicken panini?" Brendan broached hopefully. Peggy laughed warmly.

"Consider it done." She handed Rose a fork and moved away to prepare the orders. A few scant minutes later, Brendan felt someone nudge him, and he turned to Mickey, who motioned at Rose with a self-satisfied grin. Brendan looked to Rose as directed, and followed her distracted gaze in return, finally landing on the Doctor and Sarah Jane, who were chattering away with fond grins.

Brendan looked to Rose again, and then back at Mickey. "Oh," he uttered in understanding.

"Yeah," Mickey said giddily, leaning towards their distracted friend. "You see, what's impressive is that it's been nearly an hour since we met her and I still haven't said 'I told you so'."

"I'm not listening to this," Rose huffed, smiling at Peggy as she returned with her order.

"Though I have prepared a little 'I was right' dance that I can show you later," Mickey continued merrily, unperturbed by the dark glower sent in his direction.

Brendan scoffed. "Later? I wanna see it now."

"Not you and all," Rose grumbled, gratefully taking her carton of chips.

"I just wanna see Mickey dance," Brendan professed.

"It's quite a sight, don't worry 'bout that," Mickey beamed, grabbing his cup of coffee and moving away to grab a table with Rose.

"New friends?" Peggy said conversationally.

"Yeah," Brendan nodded. "They live on the estate."

"That's the boy who went down for murder, isn't he?"

Brendan frowned, wondering why he was always saddled with the spectre of Powell Estate's misgivings. "Nah, everyone got the wrong end of the stick. That's his girlfriend there."

"Don't sound it."

"Young love," Brendan said teasingly. "It's weird."

"And I suppose you'd know," Peggy hummed. "Still not found yourself a lass?"

Brendan winced, realising that he'd walked right into that one. "Nope," he said as brightly as he could. "Guess I'll just have to manage."

"You'll turn a pretty girl's head one of these days, don't you worry,"

"We'll see," Brendan said weakly, steadily growing uncomfortable with the conversation. There were days he yearned for nothing more than to be out in the open, just so he didn't have to endure so many embarrassing discussions, but the unfortunate incident with the last gay guy to live on the estate plagued his memories and filled him with doubt. He wasn't willing to risk everything he had if that was the consequence he'd have to face.

Peggy seemed to register his discomfort, and thankfully changed topics. "Who are those two, then?" she asked, motioning towards the Doctor and Sarah Jane, who had finally started their repairs on K9. "Looks like a science convention geek."

Brendan laughed at the description. "Suppose so. That's my teacher and… his mum," he concluded, trying not to look as unsure as he felt.

"And the dog?"

"His dad."

Peggy shot him a strange look. "You don't half say some strange things, love."

Brendan simply shot her a charming smile. Thankfully, Peggy dropped the matter entirely and slid him a plate with two paninis. He shot her a mumbled thanks and greedily snatched the plate, moving over to where Rose and Mickey were sat, the former looking very displeased with her chips.

"You alright?" Brendan asked concernedly around a mouthful of chicken.

"Yeah," Rose huffed automatically, but the chip clamped between her teeth and the suspicious glances cast in the Doctor and Sarah Jane's direction betrayed her words. "What's he saying to her?"

Mickey leaned into Brendan's side. "Rose's got this condition," he said lightly. "A lethal case of jealousy. There's no cure. We all checked."

Rose rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "Shut up! I just wanna know what she's telling him, that's all."

"How d'you know it's not him telling her stuff?" Mickey pointed out, tipping his cup in her direction before taking a long sip. Rose looked deeply unimpressed and snatched the cup from his grasp, spilling the contents as she brought it to her lips with a smug smile of her own. Mickey gawped at her indignantly. "Oi!"

Brendan laughed at their childishness, and curiously flicked his gaze to the Doctor and Sarah Jane, who seemed to be embroiled in a deep discussion. He studied them for a moment, curiosity building in his gut. "So who is she?" he blurted out.

"Some old friend of the Doctor's," Mickey responded.

"If friend's the right word," Rose interjected sourly.

"They used to travel together," Mickey continued as if he hadn't been interrupted.

Brendan sat up straighter at that. "What, like you guys do?"

"Know about that, do you," Rose mumbled in lieu of an answer.

"Kind of hard for him not to," Mickey said cheerily, coaxing a grin from Rose.

"How did you guys even meet?" Brendan inquired. "I mean, I know he was looking for some plastic aliens or something, but he never actually mentioned when you two got started."

A nostalgic smile quirked Rose's lips upwards, but just as she was about to enlighten Brendan, there was a whir and a triumphant cry from the Doctor, followed by the sound of hands excitedly slapping away at a table.

"Oh, hey, now we're in business!" he cried jovially.

"Master," K9 croaked, its computerised voice crackled and slow.

"He recognises me!" the Doctor cooed, and Brendan didn't need to see his face to know that he was beaming.

"Affirmative."

"Rose, give us the oil." The Doctor stuck out a hand, beckoning the trio forward. Brendan took a moment to register the order, but he stood up and followed by Rose and Mickey's example. They all crowded around the table, and Brendan watched as Rose dutifully handed the Doctor the jar.

"I wo — I wouldn't touch it though, that dinner lady got all scorched," she added warningly.

"I'm no dinner lady," the Doctor said dryly.

"Really?" Brendan blurted doubtfully, before he could stop himself.

"Yes." The Doctor turned to him with a wry smile. "And I don't often say that." He stuck his fingers into the jar, and pulled them out with a slathering of oil. Fortunately — but slightly disappointingly — nothing happened. "There, you see? Perfectly safe."

"Give us a go," Rose said giddily, dipping her own fingers into the oil and pulling away with a giggle. Brendan regarded her strangely, sharing a bemused glance with Mickey.

They kept silent and watched as the Doctor smeared the oil onto K9's retractable eye, which freaked Brendan out slightly. He leaned back self-consciously when the Doctor caught his eye, a small smirk playing on his lips.

Thankfully, the Doctor said nothing and turned back to the robot dog, murmuring encouraging words at it. "Here we go. Come on, boy, here we go." He tossed the jar in Brendan's direction, who barely managed to catch it. Brendan glared at the Doctor for the sheer spontaneity of the action, but the alien merely shrugged with an amused twinkle in his eye.

"Oil," K9 wheezed, drawing everyone's attention. "Ex-ex-ex-extract. Ana-ana-analysing."

"Listen to that, man," Mickey chortled. "That's a voice."

"Careful," Sarah Jane reprimanded warningly. "That's my dog."

"Confirmation of analysis," K9 piped up cheerily. "Substance is Krillitane Oil."

"They're Krillitanes," the Doctor breathed, the severity of his tone sending a chill of discomfort down Brendan's spine.

"Is that bad?" Rose asked nervously.

"Very. Think of how bad things could be, and add another suitcase full of bad," the Doctor said brusquely.

"That's comforting," Brendan murmured under his breath, shooting Rose a weak, reassuring smile when she worriedly at him.

"And what are Krillitanes?" Sarah Jane asked.

"They're a composite race," the Doctor started, looking between each of them. "Just like your culture is a mixture of traditions from all sorts of countries, people you've invaded or have been invaded by. You've got bits of… bits of Viking, bits of France, bits of whatever. The Krillitanes are the same — an amalgam of the races they've conquered. But they take physical aspects as well. They cherry pick the best bits from the people they destroy."

"But that's… that's cruel," Brendan spluttered. "It's evil!"

The Doctor cocked his head. "That's the Krillitanes for you. That's why I didn't recognise them. The last time I saw Krillitanes, they looked just like us except they had really long necks."

"What're they doing here?" Rose questioned, eyes wide with trepidation.

The Doctor was silent for a moment, doing nothing to ease Brendan's nerves. "It's the children," he said grimly, his eyes glazed over and distant. "They're doing something to the children."

"They didn't do anything to me," Brendan countered apprehensively. "I mean — I don't feel any different."

"If you knew what they were doing, someone else would've intervened by now," the Doctor pointed out severely.

"But how d'you know it's to do with us?" Brendan pressed insistently.

"Why else would they set up shop in a school?" the Doctor asked rhetorically.

"Maybe you're wrong."

"I'm not."

"But what if —"

"I'm not."

The Doctor spoke with such finality that it silenced Brendan entirely. He turned away from the man, staring out the big windows while sharp and merciless fear clawed at his guts.

The Doctor sighed heavily. "Look at me. Brendan, look at me," he implored gently. Reluctantly, Brendan turned to meet his patient, yet heavy, gaze. The Doctor crouched a little so that they were at eye-level, placing both hands on his shoulders. "I will figure out what's going on here, and I'll try my hardest to stop it. Any damage they've done to you and the other kids, I promise I'll try and fix it."

"We all will," Rose added softly. Brendan looked between them, unsure of whether he believed them or not, but he set his mouth into a thin line and nodded tightly. Rose moved away, satisfied, but the Doctor held onto him a little longer, gazing into Brendan's eyes probingly before releasing him a moment later.

"Mickey, Sarah, get K9 back into the car. We need to get moving," the Doctor barked. Mickey and Sarah Jane nodded obediently and set to work. Brendan sighed quietly in relief, grateful that the attention had been taken off him.

"Everything alright, Brendan?" Peggy called out suspiciously, eyeing the group with perturbation.

"Yu —" Brendan's voice cracked, and he took a moment to regain his composure. "Yeah, everything's cool."

"Okay," Peggy said slowly, glaring at the Doctor over the counter. "You take care now, love. Tell that mother of yours to pick up the damn phone some time, me and Raph miss her. And stop over anytime!"

"Course," Brendan said automatically, waving awkwardly as he made his way to the door. "Bye, Aunt Peggy," he cried out a final time before shuffling out into the night air, grateful for the muggy wind that hit his face almost immediately.

He looked over at the Doctor and Rose, the latter looking like she was waiting for an opportunity to have a serious discussion while the former's expression indicated he wanted nothing more than to run away and focus on the matter at hand. Dreading the prospect of getting caught in the crossfire, Brendan quickly made a beeline for Sarah Jane and Mickey, who were casually lounging in the boot of the journalist's car.

"Hey," he greeted upon reaching them. "Those two looked like they needed to have a conversation." He glanced down at Mickey's shell-shocked expression, and frowned. "What's wrong with him?"

"Call it a crisis of faith," Sarah Jane responded with a low, amused chuckle. She studied him thoughtfully for a moment, lips pursed, before her eyes widened in realisation. "You're from the school," she noted. "Brendan, wasn't it?"

Brendan nodded confirmingly. "Sorry for running off like that. I was trying to get away from a Krillitane."

"Ah." Sarah Jane's gaze shifted into something sterner, appraising him through narrowed eyes. "You know the Doctor as well?"

"Kind of," Brendan said stiltedly, uncomfortable under her piercing gaze.

"Kind of?" Sarah Jane prompted.

"I've only met him twice," Brendan explained, before considering. "Maybe three."

The tension in Sarah Jane's shoulders eased slightly. "Oh, so you don't travel with him?"

"Nah," Brendan tilted his head curiously, scanning her with electric eyes, mulling over possible methods to divert the conversation. "Did you?"

"A long time ago," Sarah Jane conceded nostalgically, glancing over his shoulder. Brendan didn't need to look to know that she was watching the Doctor and Rose, who were arguing in hushed whispers. "What do you mean, 'maybe three'?"

Brendan drew out a long breath, wondering where to start, when a loud, bloodcurdling screech derailed his thoughts entirely. He whipped his head upwards, eyes widening in terror as a Krillitane came swooping down at them, Before he could react, Mickey and Sarah Jane sprang to their feet and pushed him towards the Doctor and Rose; together, the group ducked to the ground.

A hand reached out for him, pulling him towards the safety of a sturdy body. Brendan latched onto it and squeezed his eyes shut, heart hammering in his chest, waiting for the inevitable pain of torn flesh. He could hear the creature's yowling, reaching closer and closer.

But nothing happened.

"Brendan," a voice murmured gently into his ear. It took Brendan a moment to realise it was the Doctor's. "It's over. It's gone."

Brendan hesitantly opened his eyes. Sure enough, the creature had zipped straight past them, its figure silhouetted against the shining moon. Drawing a shaky breath, he pushed himself to his feet, the Doctor's grip on his arm a steady presence. "Sorry," he mumbled sheepishly.

"Are you alright?" Sarah Jane asked concernedly.

"Yeah," he assured her. She nodded, but the Doctor didn't let him go. Turning to meet his sceptical gaze, he elaborated, "It was just a little different to have an alien come at me instead of watching them from the sidelines." He managed a half-hearted smile, jokingly adding, "I'll live."

The Doctor seemed content with the answer, releasing him a moment later and redirecting his attention to the fleeing alien.

"Was that a Krillitane?" Sarah Jane asked, and Brendan turned to follow their slack-jawed stares.

"But it didn't even touch ya, it just flew off!" Rose pointed out. "What'd it do that for?"

"Maybe it was a warning or something?" Brendan speculated baselessly.

"Maybe." The Doctor's tone held a grim reckoning. Brendan suppressed a shudder, unnerved by the sense of foreboding.

It was about two hours later that Brendan found that he couldn't get to sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, relaying the events of the evening over and over again, trying to make sense of it all. The damning screech of the Krillitane haunted his thoughts whenever he closed his eyes, and he couldn't bear to relive it.

Nathan's gregarious snoring did not help matters, piercing his thoughts with frustrating ease.

Huffing, Brendan heaved himself out of bed and padded over to the window, staring out at the courtyard with trepidation. After the presumed attack, Brendan had listened intently while the four seasoned alien fighters developed a plan. It had all been plotted meticulously, and everybody had been confident in their decision, until Brendan curiously asked where they were all staying for the night, which was naturally where everything had started to fall apart.

Awkward spluttering and thinly-veiled accusations — mainly between Rose and Sarah Jane, although there had been one random argument between all four of them — were hurled around the cramped space until they fumbled towards the nonsensical conclusion of spending the night in the car.

Brendan had balked at the mere suggestion, not because he felt any particular inclination to spend the night with them, but because he feared for the Doctor and Mickey's sanity after a full night dealing with Rose and Sarah Jane's seemingly-unresolved hostilie tension, so he'd suggested a more feasible alternative.

And that was how he'd found himself back at home. The group had splintered off for the evening; a reluctant Sarah Jane had been ushered into Rose's flat, while the Doctor stayed over at Mickey's. Brendan kept his ear trained, just in case objects were thrown instead of verbal abuse, but the upstairs flat was miraculously silent. They had briefly considered shuttling everybody to Sarah Jane's home, but Ealing was a little too far for the Doctor's liking, and the journey back to the school during the morning rush hour would have been hell.

A steady rap on the door jolted him from his thoughts, and Brendan turned to see his mother poking her head into the room.

"Hey," she greeted quietly. "Still awake?"

Brendan gestured towards Nathan with a scowl. "Can't really sleep."

Sofia laughed quietly, ambling into the room with her heels in hand. "You disappeared halfway through."

Brendan tensed involuntarily at the observation. In hindsight, it was an obvious question for his mother to raise, but he was still caught off-guard. What could he possibly tell her? He'd run into dangerous territory to help his upstairs neighbour and her strange alien friend?

"I was tired. Long day at school," he lied after a moment's pause, turning to meet her curious gaze. She was perched on his bed, and nodded acceptingly at the plausible answer. Brendan's shoulders sagged slightly, and he decided to throw in a little more truth into his answer. "Went to see Raph and Peg, though."

The corners of Sofia's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Craving some chicken paninis?"

"Yup," he admitted brightly. His mother laughed openly at the statement, and patted the spot beside her. Brendan obliged, casually resting on his forearms. "How'd the rest of the event go?"

"We did overrun by an hour, but other than that," Sofa sighed contentedly, "everything went perfectly. And I managed to get that cheque from Mr Saxon after all."

"That's great," Brendan said encouragingly. "I bet everyone was happy about the extra pay."

"It certainly made up for the overtime," Sofia joked easily, and the pair chuckled, falling into a comfortable silence when they sobered.

Brendan fidgeted slightly, his eyes darting to the window every-so-often. The longer he was left to stew in his thoughts, the more they turned towards the expanded worldview opened up to him by the Doctor and Rose, and everything that entailed. He didn't know why, but he was unable to squash the flutter of excitement that it invoked within him.

"Is something on your mind?" Sofia asked him abruptly. Brendan turned to her, surprised splayed across his features, and she tapped her temple knowingly. "You always furrow your brow when you're bothered. I always thought it looked like a unibrow."

"Really?" Brendan self-consciously reached for the furrow of his brow. His mother laughed and lowered his hand, looking at him expectantly. He sighed and looked away. "I was just thinking," he said vaguely.

"What about?" his mother probed gently.

Brendan puffed out his cheeks, unable to sift through his own vague ruminations. There was no way he'd be able to put it all into a coherent train of thought, let alone an explanation. "Everything?" he decided upon unsurely.

"A Levels getting you down?"

Brendan didn't answer. He tilted his head towards the dark night sky. Stars were an infrequent, almost rare, occurrence in London, obscured by a thick layer of smog and pollution, often so that he sometimes forgot they existed while growing up. But now that the layer had been peeled away and the heavens had opened up before him, he desired nothing more than to explore every avenue of the boundless, starless sky.

"I saw Rose today," he began clumsily.

"Jackie mentioned she was home."

Brendan hummed, keenly aware of how much he furrowed his brow now that it had been pointed out to him. He tried to relax and turned to his mother, who was staring at him expectantly. "I think I know what I want to do after A Levels."

"You want to go travelling," Sofia said with a knowing glint in her eye. "It's why you mentioned Rose. She's currently travelling," she elaborated at Brendan's surprised look.

"Not forever," Brendan hastily added. "I think I still wanna go to Uni. But I wanna get out there a bit first, to get some experience. I could take a gap year, and I could work for a bit to raise the money. I'd still call, though, and —"

Sofia silenced him with a gentle chuckle. "When did you grow so big?" she mused, running a hand through his messy hair.

"I'm one of the shortest in my year," Brendan said flippantly, shying away from her motherly touch.

"You're tall to me," Sofia said with conviction. "You're not a little boy anymore, caro. You can make your own choices for yourself."

"You don't mind?" Brendan asked sceptically.

Sofia smiled brightly. "No. I think it'll be a great opportunity. Jackie always says it's done Rose the world of good." Her smile softened with a quiet acceptance. "There's more to life than this estate. I want you to go find it." She moved away with a small smile. "But first I want you to get some sleep. You have school tomorrow."

Brendan flicked his gaze to Nathan's slumbering form. "Kinda hard right now," he muttered.

Sofia moved over and gently rolled Nathan onto his side, which miraculously stymied the languid bellows. "Easy," she said triumphantly, offering him a tentative kiss on the forehead. It was a little slow and awkward, and Brendan could tell her mind had already deviated to her next big project, but he appreciated the effort.

He watched as she made her way out of the room, whispering a fond, "good night," as she closed the door.

"Night, Mum," he murmured as he drifted off, knowing she couldn't hear him.

When Brendan awoke the next morning, it felt like a lead weight was pressed against his chest. Inexpressible thoughts and emotions bombarded him and the mere thought of the day ahead made his stomach twist and churn.

He trudged up the stairs to Rose's flat, glancing at the street along the way. People milled around, shouting, laughing and swearing at the sky for their previous night's hangover. They were getting on with their lives, and the sky was bright and cloudless. He pursed his lips, wondering how such an ordinary day could play host to the monumental events to come. He reconsidered, silently conceding that the Sycorax invasion had also occurred on a normal day.

Brendan paused just outside of 48 Bucknall House, wary of the chaos he'd find inside. He expected broken bits of crockery, torn furnishings and two — perhaps three, if he counted Jackie — dead bodies.

Gathering the courage to sate his morbid curiosity, Brendan knocked on the door.

It was Jackie who opened the door. As soon as a marginal crack was visible, Brendan peered over her shoulder to assess the damage, but instead of the expected hurled objects and shouting, everything looked in order.

He was dimly aware of Jackie greeting him, and offered her a polite smile. "Everything alright?" he asked.

"Well, as good as expected, yeah," Jackie responded primly. "Having a guest dumped on me in the middle of the night. House was topsy-turvy."

Brendan offered her an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

Jackie smiled, and waved a dismissive hand. "Come in, then. They're at the table."

Brendan nodded gratefully and manoeuvred past her to step into the cramped living room. Sarah Jane and Rose were sat at the table, staring intently at each other.

"Robots. Lots of robots," Sarah Jane said sharply.

"Slitheen, in Downing Street," Rose retorted just as heatedly.

"Daleks!"

"Met the Emperor," Rose scoffed.

"Anti-matter monsters."

"Gas masked zombies."

"Real living dinosaurs!"

"Real living werewolf!"

Sarah Jane's voice rose an octave. "The Loch Ness Monster!"

Brendan shiftily regarded the pair as they fell into a stony silence, staring at each other with dawning realisation of how ridiculous they sounded.

"Oh, you're making it up now!" Rose scoffed.

"I swear!" Sarah Jane piped up with a spluttering laugh. "Bad breath like you wouldn't believe!"

"They been like this for a while?" Brendan murmured to Jackie as the women at the table burst into laughter.

"All morning," Jackie huffed disapprovingly. "I think they're making it all up. All night they went on about giant bat aliens. Bats!"

"That's cos it happened!" Rose huffed.

"I saw bats once, at the zoo," Jackie said nostalgically. "I went with Pete. Rose, too, but she was just a baby. We went into this little bat enclosure, cos I was curious, you see. Bev told me bats had superior hearing and stuff cos of their blindness, and I thought, 'that can't be right'. But when we got there, all the bats started haring about cos Rose was crying the place down because she had a dirty nappy —"

"Oh, don't start," Rose muttered, turning to Brendan with an exaggerated eye-roll in lieu of a greeting.

"Oh, hark at her," Jackie crowed playfully as she retreated into the kitchen, rummaging around the kitchen cupboards as she chatted away. "Time was I would be telling her what to do!"

Sarah Jane sought out Brendan's gaze with a chuckle. "How are you?"

"Alright," Brendan offered, crashing onto a nearby chair. "Did you sleep okay?"

Sarah Jane took a moment to compose her answer. "I managed," she answered carefully.

Rose winced. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Sarah Jane said reassuringly. "The sofa wasn't as uncomfortable as I thought it'd be."

"And it was nice to have another responsible adult in the house," Jackie interjected as she strolled back into the living room with three cups of coffee. "You want anything, love?" she asked Brendan, who politely shook his head.

"I'm a responsible adult!" Rose piped up indignantly.

"I shouldn't think so, running around time and space like that," Jackie mused, handing Rose a cup.

"Thanks," Rose murmured gratefully. "But seriously, Mum, you don't know what it's like."

"It's true," Sarah Jane said, accepting her own cup of coffee. "Once you've got a taste for the universe, it's hard to let go."

"Well, I'm fine with life as it is," Jackie shrugged. "Anyway, it doesn't change anything. It's nice having you here."

Sarah Jane grinned sombrely. "Thank you. It was nice having someone to talk to first thing in the morning."

Brendan frowned at that. "Haven't you got anyone waiting at home?"

"No husband or kids or nothing?" Rose added curiously. "Seriously?"

"Nothing quite compared to life with the Doctor," Sarah Jane explained, smiling bashfully. "There were men, of course, but it just wouldn't work out. Not after everything I've seen and done."

"What, you're on your own?" Rose asked sadly. Brendan noticed that she was staring at Sarah Jane in a different light. A night together in close quarters seemed to have alleviated the hostile tension between them.

"I suppose I am, most of the time. I had these friends, for a time. Nat and… but I think I prefer being on my own. No one to tie me down."

"Doesn't it get lonely?" Jackie enquired softly.

Sarah Jane looked away uncomfortably, and Brendan quickly realised the topic caused her great distress.

"You're a journalist, though," he said as brightly as he could. "Must have kept you busy."

Sarah Jane's eyes glinted with sharp understanding, but she seemed to appreciate his topic change nonetheless. "Oh, yes, there's always something to uncover."

"Anything big?" Jackie asked curiously.

"There was the incident with the sarin nerve gas a while back," Sarah Jane suggested after a moment's pause. Jackie hummed and nodded as if she had any clue what the journalist was talking about, but a quick glance at Rose confirmed his suspicions that she probably didn't. "There were other big stories as well, and I've loved every moment of it, but that's the thing after you've travelled with the Doctor — nothing quite compares after that. You can't ever turn your back on the universe."

"Did you ever think you'd see the Doctor again?" Rose asked quietly, her expression withdrawn and apprehensive.

Sarah Jane glanced at her pityingly. "No," she admitted. "There was a time, right at the start, where I thought, 'ooh, he'll be back one day. You can't ever keep the Doctor away'. But it never happened. And that was okay."

"Didn't seem like it yesterday," Rose muttered.

"I never got to say goodbye," Sarah Jane said sadly. "Not properly. It was all so sudden, neither of us really thought about it. I'd have liked to have done it the right way."

"Do you regret meeting him?" Brendan wondered aloud. "Travelling with him?"

Sarah Jane beamed at him. "Not for a single second."

There was a lapse in conversation after that. Brendan looked to each of the women at the table, studying their expressions; Rose seemed to be bothered by something, her eyes trained on a dent in the table; Jackie's eyes kept flitting between her daughter and her guest; Sarah Jane leaned back in her chair, sipping her cup of coffee and staring contemplatively at the ceiling. It seemed she was the only composed person present.

A steady rap at the door drew their attention, and Jackie went to answer it. Brendan, Rose and Sarah Jane all looked at each other, waiting for their guest to step inside.

Sure enough, the Doctor sauntered in a moment later, his expression ashen, with Mickey at his heels. "It's time," he said gravely.

Sarah Jane parked her car in Deffry Vale's parking lot, and the group piled out into the courtyard. Students were streaming into the building, chatting away to each other as they unknowingly traipsed into the lion's den. Brendan watched them, his lips pressing into a thin line.

The Doctor stuffed his hands into his pockets, taking centre-stage. Brendan looked at him expectantly, waiting for his commands. It was amazing how easily they all fell into step beside him.

"Rose and Sarah, you go to the Maths room," he ordered. "Crack open those computers. I need to see the hardware inside." He dug into his pocket and held out the sonic screwdriver to Sarah Jane. "Here, you might need this."

Sarah Jane accepted it, and then tossed the screwdriver to Rose a moment later with a playful smile. Rose caught it with a grin of her own, tongue poking between her teeth. Brendan smiled at the small display of camaraderie, relieved that they had put their petty squabble behind them.

"Brendan," the Doctor said, snapping Brendan from his ruminations, "head to class. I need you to keep an eye on your classmates."

Brendan's eyes widened, surprised to be given a task. His thoughts briefly strayed towards the fact that the Krillitane knew of his association with the Doctor, and he questioned what would become of him if he wandered the corridors alone.

As if he'd sensed his thoughts, the Doctor spun around to face him. "It's almost break time. As soon as the bell goes, I'll come find you. But right now, I need you to make sure the Krillitanes don't try anything on the other kids."

Brendan took a breath to steady himself, and nodded determinedly. "I can do it," he assured the Doctor, wishing he felt as confident as he sounded.

The Doctor seemed pleased with him, however, and turned back to face the swarming throng of pupils, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. "Mickey, surveillance. I want you outside."

"What, just stand outside?" Mickey grumbled.

Sarah Jane tossed her car keys to him. "Here, take these. You can keep K9 company."

"Don't forget to leave the window open a crack," the Doctor said over his shoulder as the group headed towards the building.

"But he's metal!" Mickey cried out indignantly.

"I didn't mean for him," the Doctor retorted snidely. Brendan couldn't help but laugh, and turned to offer Mickey a consoling smile, but he'd had already retreated into the car.

"What're you gonna do?" Rose asked nervously, pressing insistently into the Doctor's side.

"It's time I had a word with Mr Finch," the Doctor said stonily.

Brendan felt someone squeeze his shoulder, and turned to look at Sarah Jane. "Good luck," she said with an earnest smile.

"You too," Brendan smiled sincerely. They split off in the entryway, Rose and Sarah Jane going right while Brendan turned left. He followed his classmates up the stairs, but screeched to a halt when the gaunt figure of Mr Finch stepped into view and blocked his path.

"Come with me, boy," Mr Finch said.

"I have period two now, sir," Brendan managed to quip. He was rooted to the spot, a cocktail of surprise and panic swirling in his gut.

"I'm afraid that wasn't a request." Finch smiled slyly and grabbed him by the scruff of his blazer, dragging him down the stairs. "I'm not going to hurt you, but if you keep struggling, I can assure that you'll regret it," Finch added lackadaisically when Brendan attempted to squirm out of his grasp. He reluctantly stopped trying to escape and followed his alien headmaster through the winding school corridors, heart hammering loudly in his chest, until they drew to a stop outside the swimming pool. "Wait here," Finch ordered tersely, before stepping into the pool area.

Brendan slumped against the wall, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. A hand suddenly rested on his shoulder, and he flew back with a startled yelp.

"It's okay, it's okay. Look, it's only me," the Doctor hastily said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. Brendan calmed a little at the sight of him, and squashed down the previous impulse to run away. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," Brendan said, before grimacing. "Failed my part of the plan, though," he said regretfully.

"As long as you're okay, it doesn't matter," the Doctor said soothingly. His gaze drifted to the pool doors, and his expression hardened. "Wait here."

Brendan barely nodded before the Doctor strode through the entrance. Curiously, he crouched and pressed his ear to the door to see if he could catch snippets of their conversation.

"Who are you?" he heard the Doctor ask.

"My name is Brother Lassar. And you?" Finch responded.

"The Doctor. Since when did Krillitanes have wings?"

"It's been our form for nearly ten generations now. Our ancestors invaded Bessan. The people there had some rather lovely wings. They made a million widows in one day. Just imagine."

Finch's nonchalant tone made Brendan's skin crawl. How could anybody talk about genocide as if they were discussing the bingo results? He struggled to reconcile the Krillitane's staggering calmness with the Doctor's stern anger. The Sycorax had ran away at his command, but Finch's tone held no such fear. It felt as if they were on an even keel.

"And now you're shaped human," the Doctor noted, drawing Brendan back to the conversation.

"A personal favourite, that's all."

"And the others?"

"My brothers remain bat form. What you see is a simple morphic illusion. Scratch the surface and the true Krillitane lies beneath. And what of the Time Lords? I always thought of you as such a pompous race. Ancient, dusty senators, so frightened of change and chaos."

Brendan found himself leaning forward subconsciously, not because of the explanation about Finch's bat brethren, but because of his silver-tongued words directed at the Doctor. Was that what the Doctor was? A Time Lord? The man didn't strike Brendan as a dusty senator.

"And of course, they're all but extinct. Only you. The last."

"This plan of yours, what is it?" the Doctor asked before Brendan could fully process the statement.

"You don't know," Finch murmured in realisation. Brendan hated the tinge of glee in his voice.

"That's why I'm asking."

"Well, show me how clever you are. Work it out."

"If I don't like it, it will stop," the Doctor vowed menacingly.

"Fascinating. Your people were peaceful to the point of indolence. You seem to be something new," Finch breathed, sounding more fascinated than unnerved. Brendan got the horrible mental image of a scientist poring over his lab rat. "Would you declare war on us, Doctor? Even with the lives of your friends at stake?"

Finch's question was suffixed by the clicking of his boots. Suddenly, the door gave way beneath Brendan's hands and he found himself lurching forwards. A hand snatched out and gripped him tightly by the throat, rooting him painfully in mid-suspension. He glared up at the Krillitane's amused smirk, clawing and pushing at the hand in an attempt to free himself, but it felt like he was in a vice grip. His coughing was ragged and broken, and he was finding it very difficult to breathe.

"Don't struggle, Brendan." The Doctor furiously rounded on Finch. "Would you really be stupid enough to test my patience by harming my friend?"

"A minor curiosity, that's all," Finch drawled smoothly. The hand restricting Brendan's breathing slackened, until it disappeared entirely, and he clumsily stumbled backwards to create distance between himself and his otherworldly assailant. "What lengths would you go to, Doctor?"

"I'm so old now. I used to have so much mercy," the Doctor murmured sotto voce, his eyes distant and sombre, yet distinctly threatening.

A chill ran down Brendan's spine. He had seen the Doctor jovial, and angry, but he'd never seen this cold, quiet fury. He felt himself taking another step back, tense and a little frightened by the display.

"You get one warning," the Doctor continued, circling around Finch to stand definitively in front of Brendan, almost like a shield. "That's it."

Miraculously, Finch merely stepped forward, his eyes bright and imploring. "But we're not even enemies," he chuckled easily, almost mockingly. "Soon you will embrace us. The next time we meet, you will join me. I promise you."

With a knowing smirk, Finch bowed his head and strolled leisurely out of the pool, his departure marked by the ringing of the school bell. Brendan staggered out of his way as he walked past, afraid of the man grabbing him again, and waited until he was out of sight for five seconds before letting his shoulders sag with relief.

He turned to the Doctor, who was glaring darkly at the spot Finch had vacated. "Doctor?" Brendan said hesitantly. "Are you okay?"

The Doctor looked at him, eyes wide in open surprise. "Me?" he said, baffled. "I should be asking you that."

"You're gonna beat him," Brendan said confidently. "I know it."

"How can you be so sure?"

"'Cos you beat the Sycorax," Brendan replied certainly. "And those plastic things you told me about, and the Sliteen."

"Slitheen," the Doctor corrected, but he was grinning. "I suppose your faith's gonna have to do. Right, Mr Ambrosi-Jackman!" He spontaneously burst out, startling Brendan. "It's break time, let's go see how Rose and Sarah are doing."

Brendan nodded. "I know a shortcut."

"Lead on." The Doctor stuffed his hands into his pockets, and followed Brendan's lead as he marched through corridors and up a flight of stairs. As they neared the Maths suite, Brendan allowed Rose and Sarah Jane's excited conversation to guide him.

"Does he still stroke bits of the TARDIS?" Sarah Jane asked, a happy lilt to her voice.

"Yeah!" Rose agreed, and the pair burst out laughing. "Yeah, he does. I'm like, do you two want to be alone?"

Brendan considered skidding to a halt to let the pair have their moment, but the Doctor barged inside, already blathering away, forcing his own hand.

As soon as he stepped inside, Rose and Sarah Jane collapsed into each other, breaking into a fit of giggles, spluttering incoherent sentences at the nonplussed Doctor, who seemed uncomfortable with the jibes directed at him. Brendan only heard snatches of their babbling, but he managed to catch something about 'jelly babies' and 'big ears'.

The lighthearted atmosphere was undercut by the crackle of a speaker, followed by a tannoy announcement that sent a wave of dread through Brendan's gut.

"All pupils to class immediately," the cool, clipped voice announced, "and would all members of staff congregate in the staff room."

Brendan frowned suspiciously, spying the classroom clock. "There's still fifteen minutes left. What are they doing?"

"They're starting early," the Doctor growled. "Rose, man the door. Don't let anybody inside."

"Me?" Rose frowned uncertainly, even as she crossed the room. "What am I supposed to say?"

"Tell them the classroom's out of bounds. Say it's an electrical fault, or — or a gas leak, or… just think of something!" he snapped.

"Tell them to go to the south hall," Brendan advised. "They've got maths classrooms there."

Rose nodded thankfully at the advice, and headed out to deal with the first wave of students. Brendan turned back to the Doctor, who'd rushed to the main computer and was deftly disassembling it with Sarah Jane's help. He hurried over to them when the Doctor popped his head under the desk.

When Brendan reached them, the Doctor resurfaced with a load of cables looped around his neck, with a slim metal contraption clamped between his mouth. He pointed the slim metal device at the computer's CPU, which whirred loudly for a moment. "I can't shift it," he murmured, eyes never tearing away from the CPU.

Sarah Jane shared a worried look with Brendan, a strange sense of panic in her eyes. "I thought the sonic screwdriver could open anything," she said fearfully.

"Anything except a deadlock seal," he explained, though Brendan didn't understand a word of it. "There's gotta be something inside here." He glanced briefly at Brendan. "Don't suppose you remember anything useful?"

"No," Brendan responded regretfully. "Everything feels normal."

"That's always the worst kind of danger," the Doctor murmured.

"So what do we do?" Rose asked as she rejoined them.

The Doctor scanned the room for a moment. "We've got to try and open at least one of these computers," he decided, striding over to another desk and squatting down to get at the CPU.

Brendan looked to Sarah Jane and Rose, who automatically moved to separate computers, and reluctantly joined them. He knelt down beside the Doctor, watching him work for a moment. "Need any help?"

"Get these out of my way," he replied, pointing at the mesh of stray wires. Brendan obliged, tugging away a few so that the Doctor could continue scanning the CPU with the device Sarah Jane had called a sonic screwdriver. He watched him work for a moment, gathering up the courage to ask his burning question. "Doctor?" he said hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"What did Finch mean?" he asked. "He said you'd join him."

The Doctor paused momentarily. "I don't know. Still!" He declared loudly, returning to the work at hand. "He was probably just trying to scare us. Happens all the time. You know what they say about villains and their monologues —"

"Yeah, but…" Brendan interrupted cautiously. "You're not gonna, are you?"

"No." The Doctor finally turned to face him, an assuring, promising glint in his eyes. "Don't worry about that."

"Good." Brendan smiled weakly. "I kinda need you to figure out if I'm slowly dying or something. Just… don't get into another sword fight."

"Well," The Doctor chuckled at the thought, "I certainly keep no promises."

"You wanted the programme?" Sarah Jane called out, breaking the moment. "Here it is."

The Doctor's expression turned serious, and he rose to his feet. Brendan stood from his crouch a moment later, following their gaze to the interactive whiteboard. Displayed on the screen were green cubes etched with strange symbols. The longer Brendan stared at them, the more he felt himself relax, the display bathing him in a calming viridescent glow.

"Brendan." Rose shook his shoulder violently, snapping him from his daze. He met her concerned gaze somewhat drowsily. "You okay?"

Brendan took a moment to respond, trying to get his bearings. "Yeah," he eventually murmured. "What happened?"

"You were sort-of spaced out," Rose explained, her eyes narrowed in incredulity. "Don't you remember?"

Brendan shrugged helplessly. "Not really."

"The Skasis Paradigm," the Doctor muttered lowly. Brendan noticed with apprehension that the man was staring at him, a grave expression on his face. "They're trying to crack the Skasis Paradigm."

"The Skasis what?" Sarah Jane was the first to ask.

"The… God maker," the Doctor struggled to explain. "The universal theory. Crack that equation, you've got control of the building blocks of the universe. Time and space and matter — yours to control."

"Who made it?" Brendan asked, struggling to wrap his head around such a deadly programme. "And why?"

"Nobody knows." The Doctor ran his tongue along his teeth. "It's just existed since the first atom. They say the first person who tried to crack it went mad in a day."

"What, and the kids are like a giant computer?" Rose asked, casting a wary glance in Brendan's direction. "Is that why he was out of it?"

"Yes," the Doctor said gravely, doing nothing to alleviate Brendan's nerves. "And their learning power is being accelerated by the oil! That oil from the kitchens, it works as a—a conducting agent. Makes the kids cleverer."

"Wait," Brendan said hopefully. "That's why I didn't feel any different! I don't eat school lunch!"

"Yeah, but yesterday," Rose started nervously. "That oil's on the chips, we ate them."

The Doctor leaned against a desk, staring at them critically. "What's fifty-nine times thirty-five?"

"Two-thousand and sixty-five," Rose and Brendan replied automatically. They exchanged a wide-eyed glance. "Oh, my god," Rose said breathlessly.

"But why use children?" Sarah Jane asked, bringing everybody back to the matter at hand. "Can't they use adults?"

"Yeah, and I'm eighteen," Brendan spoke up. "I'm a legal adult."

"Not in the eyes of Krillitane society," the Doctor countered. "Twenty years is their age of maturity. And it's got to be the children. The god maker needs imagination to crack it. That's why the first man went mad. They're not using the children's imagination to crack it. They're using their souls."

"Let the lesson begin."

Brendan jumped at the new voice, peering over the Doctor's shoulder to find Mr Finch staring stonily at them. The man steadily approached the group, prompting Brendan to take a step backwards, but the alien seemed focused solely on the Doctor.

"Think of it, Doctor, with the Paradigm solved, reality becomes clay in our hands. We can shape the universe, and improve it."

"Oh, yeah? The whole of creation with the face of Mr Finch?" the Doctor jeered snidely. "Call me old-fashioned, but I like things as they are."

"You act like such a radical, and yet all you want to do is preserve the old order?" Finch questioned curiously, stepping forward with an imploring gaze. "Think of the changes that could be made if we used this power for good."

"What, by someone like you?" the Doctor asked with open derision.

"No," Finch breathed with a broad grin. "Someone like you."

The Doctor tensed noticeably. Brendan watched the exchange worriedly, wondering how the whole thing would play out. Finch smirked with the confidence of a man who knew his trap was set.

"The Paradigm gives us power, but you could give us wisdom. Become a god at my side," he continued temptingly. "Imagine what you could do, think of the civilisations you could save. Perganon, Ascinta, your own people, Doctor." He took another emboldened step forward. Brendan expected the Doctor to fight, like he had with the Sycorax leader, but he offered no such resistance. "Standing tall. The Time Lords, reborn."

"He's lying," Brendan cried out before he could stop himself. He didn't know what Finch was talking about, but whoever the Time Lords were, they clearly held great meaning for the Doctor, which left him open to temptation. "He wouldn't have attacked us if he wanted you to join them!"

"He's right, Doctor, don't listen to him," Sarah Jane spoke up in agreement.

Finch rounded on them. "And you could be with him throughout eternity," he cooed. "Young, fresh. Never wither, never age, never die." Rose and Sarah Jane shifted uncomfortably backwards, and that was when Finch turned to Brendan. "And what of you, Mr Ambrosi?"

"How do you know my name?" Brendan hated the way his voice quivered with fear. He was also dimly aware that yet another person seemed to neglect his double-barrelled surname.

"I'm your Headmaster, boy," Finch laughed patronisingly. "It's my job to take an interest in the needs of my students. And how many needs you have. Haven't you considered what you could do with the Paradigm? You could travel forever the way your heart desires, do everything you want to do. So much you could fix. Your father and his drinking, your useless mother, your brother. Utopia. Melody. Manhattan. You could have the perfect life you always wanted."

Brendan furrowed his brow, but before he could question the statement further, Finch turned back to the Doctor.

"Their lives are so fleeting. So many goodbyes. How lonely you must be, Doctor. Join us."

"I could save everyone," the Doctor whispered, his eyes hollow and glazed over.

"Yes," Finch said, sotto voce.

"I could stop the war," the Doctor breathed, his voice filled with such unyielding hope and temptation that it sent shivers trailing down Brendan's spine.

There was a long, stagnant silence as the Doctor and Finch stared at each other, and Brendan felt a cold tightness grip his chest, terrified that the Doctor would actually take up the offer.

"No!" Sarah Jane said sharply, snapping everyone from their trances. "The universe has to move forward. Pain and loss, they define us as much as happiness or love. Whether it's a world or a relationship, everything has its time. And everything ends."

For a single, terrible moment, Brendan was afraid that Sarah Jane's speech hadn't gotten through to him, but then the Doctor surged forward with a chair and smashed the whiteboard. "Out!" he roared. Rose and Sarah Jane were quick to flee, but Brendan first grasped the upturned chair and tossed it at the unsuspecting Finch, relishing the way the man fell over with a surprised screech.

"That's for calling my mum useless," Brendan hissed just before the Doctor grabbed him by the arm and hauled him out of the room.

"Brendan, can I just say, I completely disapprove," the Doctor said with a frown.

"I don't!" Rose interjected, tossing a grin over her shoulder. "Nice one!"

"Thanks," Brendan panted as they sprinted down the hall, passing classroom after classroom filled with oblivious students. "Is that what I was like?"

"Yeah," the Doctor confirmed.

"We have to help them," Brendan protested.

"And we will." The Doctor spurred him forward. "But for now we run!"

"Staircase!" Rose yelled, and the group quickly hurried down the steps. As they neared the end, a piercing shriek reverberated off the walls, hollow and deafening, like a call to war.

They finally reached the bottom, just as Mickey ran towards them. "What is going on?" he demanded.

Before anybody could answer him, a swarm of Krillitane swooped at them from the other end of the corridor. Feeling a prickle of fear, Brendan kept pace with the group as they turned in the opposite direction and fled. They all spilled into the lunch hall, and Brendan bent over to catch his breath while the Doctor and Rose sought out an escape route. He hadn't realised there would be so much running involved.

He didn't have much of a chance to recover. Mr Finch strode through the doors a moment later, flanked by his swarm of brethren. Brendan stumbled backwards, seeking out Sarah Jane's shaky grip and clutching onto her. "Got a plan?" he asked nobody-in-particular.

"Not yet," the Doctor responded sheepishly. "Sorry."

"We need the Doctor alive," Finch groused, a hungry grin stretching his lips. "As for the others, you can feast. And bring me that insolent boy's head. It'll make a rather lovely trophy."

The Krillitane descended upon them. Brendan dodged one of the bat creature's talons, but overbalanced and fell onto his hands and knees. He scrambled backwards as the alien reared up and dove towards him again with an animalistic screech, but they were kept at bay by the Doctor, who lashed out at them with a chair.

Following his example, Brendan grabbed another chair and swatted another Krillitane that tried to attack a defenceless Sarah Jane. The alien turned to him instead, the previous target long forgotten, and lashed out, scraping the back of his hand with the tips of its talons just as he leapt back.

Brendan cried out in pain, inadvertently dropping his makeshift weapon as he clamped a hand over the bloody gash. The Krillitane squealed in delight, and he watched with terror as it raised an arm, ready to strike him down without a second thought.

Before Brendan could blink, a red bolt of energy struck his attacker in the chest, and it fell to the ground like a sack of bricks. He heard Mr Finch roar in agony, but was too stunned to move.

"K9!" Sarah Jane cried out happily, and Brendan finally directed his gaze to the little metal dog that had followed them in.

"Suggest you engage running mode, mistress," K9 chirped.

"Come on!" the Doctor yelled, barrelling ahead. "K9, hold them back!"

"Affirmative, master."

Brendan helped Sarah Jane to her feet and tightly held her hand — though he wasn't sure which of them was assisting the other. They followed the group into an empty science classroom. The Doctor hurried them inside, locking the door with the sonic screwdriver. As soon as the piercing buzz died out, Brendan collapsed into a chair beside Rose, panting and trying hard not to think about the sticky blood coating his hands.

"You alright?" Rose asked him.

"Yeah," Brendan lied easily. "Just unfit."

"Nah, you're bleeding," Mickey said accusingly. "That Krillitane slashed you, I saw it."

"Let me see." Rose grabbed Brendan's hand before he could register her command, and so he resorted to glaring at Mickey over the top of her head.

"How'd you even know something was wrong?" Brendan asked curiously.

"Rose called me, when Mr Finch was doing his whole speech," Mickey explained. He winced apologetically. "Kinda had to crash the car into the building to get in, though."

Sarah Jane looked affronted. "You did what —"

"'S not deep, I don't think," Rose interrupted. "Doctor —"

"Busy," the Doctor snapped immediately, leaning against the desk with a thoughtful scowl. Sarah Jane was by his side, occasionally shooting a worried glance in their direction.

"Sorry I asked," Rose muttered. The Doctor winced guiltily, rummaging in his pocket and pulled out a bandage roll, which he tossed to Rose. Brendan gawped at him while Rose patched him up, wondering how he'd managed to fit such a thing into his pocket.

Oh, right, he recalled with sharp clarity. The pockets were apparently bigger on the inside.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Rose declared she was finished. Brendan assessed the patchwork job; it didn't cover every inch of his hand, and strips hung loosely at the side, but he smiled appreciatively. "Thanks."

"If it's children they need, they must have their own," Sarah Jane pointed out. "Why use humans?"

The Doctor's eyes cleared. "That's it."

"What is?" Sarah Jane asked.

"It's the oil!" the Doctor murmured in realisation. "Krillitane life form can't handle the oil. That's it! They've changed their physiology so often, even their own oil is toxic to them." He excitedly turned to Rose, who had slid out of her chair to join him. "How much was there in the kitchen?"

"Barrels of it," Rose managed to say before a high pitched squeal attracted everyone's attention. Brendan edged out of his seat nervously as sizeable chunks of the locked door were chipped away by sharp claws. He turned to the others, hopeful that they had an escape plan in place, but they looked just as terrified as him.

"We can't just sit here," Brendan prompted. "What do we do?"

"Right," the Doctor nodded. "Course. We need to get to the kitchens. Mickey!"

"What now, hold the coats?" Mickey said sarcastically.

"Get all the children unplugged and out of the school."

"I'll help. Quicker that way." Brendan volunteered. Mickey nodded gratefully.

"Now then, bats, bats, bats. How do we fight bats?" the Doctor muttered ponderously.

"I don't mean to rush you, but how do we get out?" Sarah Jane asked hurriedly.

"Thinking about it."

Brendan huffed in frustration, incensed and terrified in equal doses by the Doctor's non-answer. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm down, when the answer hit him. "Wait," he whirled around with a thoughtful expression. "Bats are blind."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Rose asked, her tone brusquer from her evident panic.

"It's like your mum said, they have better hearing." Brendan scanned the row of blank faces, and upon realising none of them had reached the same conclusion as him, slammed his palm against the fire alarm.

The Doctor chuckled heartily as the Krillitane backed away, their shrieks mixing with the deafening wail. He pushed the door open, rushing through with the others in tow. Brendan branched off from his group and followed Mickey into the closest classroom.

"Okay listen everyone, we've gotta get out of here!" Mickey announced loudly. The pupils continued typing away, unbothered. Brendan tried shaking a nearby student, and was met with no response.

"It's like there's no one there," he commented warily, taking note of their blank, vacant faces.

"There's no shut down command," Mickey growled, tapping furiously at a computer keyboard. "I can't stop it!"

"We've gotta try," Brendan urged. He pulled off another student's headphones, to no effect.

"Wait, wait, wait," Mickey said thoughtfully, coming to a stop beside the plug socket. He paused, glancing at Brendan in askance.

Brendan shrugged helplessly. "Worth a shot, right?"

Mickey nodded and yanked out the plug. The computer monitors went blank instantly, and students began to blink in surprise, herding out of the room at their command. Brendan laughed joyously, clapping Mickey on the shoulders as he went to do a sweep of the upper floors.

Between Mickey and himself, they managed to briskly clear out all the classrooms. Brendan took a moment to check the bathrooms for any stray lesson bunkers. He burst into the final bathroom on his way out the front door, and immediately froze in place, shock and terror paralysing him as the ugliest thing he had ever seen

Brendan spilled into the courtyard, almost running straight into Mickey. A concerned frown was on his face, and Brendan was surprised to realise that he was breathing quite heavily.

"You alright?" Mickey asked carefully.

Rose sidled up beside them before Brendan could answer. "How'd it go?" he asked anxiously, just as a deafening explosion had him dropping to the ground out of reflex. Shrapnel shot past him, and the tail-end of amber flames licked at his cheeks.

The minute he was able to look at the smouldering wreck that used to be his school, the entire courtyard erupted in applause. Students cheered and embraced each other out of sheer delight. Once Brendan was able to overcome his initial shock, he joined in on the celebrations, offering one-armed hugs to and jumping along with people he barely knew.

"We did it!" Rose screamed, launching herself into his arms. Brendan laughed and danced with her, pulling away slightly to let Mickey join in.

"We're making a habit out of his," Brendan said breathlessly, succumbing to the sheer euphoria over the fact that he'd helped to blow up his school.

"Guess it just goes with the territory," Mickey said gruffly, and they all devolved into childish giggles.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said, and Brendan sought him out, guiltily aware that he had forgotten him amidst the celebrations.

"It's alright." Sarah Jane was stood beside him, looking like she was on the verge of tears. "He was just a daft metal dog. It's fine, really." She started to cry immediately after, unable to maintain her facadé any longer. The Doctor pulled her close, comforting her as she wept.

Brendan redirected his gaze to the burning building, a lump growing in his throat as he only just realised the ridiculous metal dog was absent. They'd won in the end, but at such a cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the bottom of my heart, I apologise for such a lengthy hiatus between chapters! It's been a very busy time in my life, with opposition coming from every corner and preventing me from writing, but I'm starting to get back into it. As I've said before, I want to release chapters in terms of a series-by-series basis; as such, I am hoping to finish writing series 2 before releasing the next few chapters in Brendan's adventures.
> 
> I'm also in the market looking for a proofreader! If you're interested, shoot me a message below and we can get talking.
> 
> Thank you to those who are interested in the story - your investment means a lot to me, and I want to ensure that you are not disappointed.


	5. One Foot Through the Door

The celebrations quickly ran their course, and soon reality began to take hold of the situation.

"I'll have to get in touch with UNIT," Sarah Jane mused once she'd composed herself, as they all watched the flock of students drift away from the spectacle, their thoughts consumed by other matters; those who lingered were on their phones to friends and families, and the sight reminded Brendan of his mum.

"I thought UNIT was dead," Mickey said bewilderedly.

"You can never keep them down for long," Sarah Jane replied, with an air of quiet knowledge.

"What's UNIT?" Brendan asked.

"Maybe a story for another time?" the Doctor suggested, motioning towards the direction where distant sirens could be heard. "The Krillitanes are gone now, our job here's done."

"What exactly did you do?" Brendan inquired curiously, tipping his head towards the smouldering wreckage. "They could've escaped."

"I doubt it," the Doctor hummed. "We doused them in their own oil. It was like acid to them. Killed them all."

Brendan winced at the grim explanation, thinking back to what the Doctor had said when he'd sent the Sycorax leader plummeting to its death: _no second chances_. It seemed he was staying true to his words.

"So, what happens now?" Sarah Jane asked, snapping Brendan back to the present. "Will you stick around until UNIT arrive?"

The Doctor pulled a face at the suggestion. "Ah, best not. I try my best to avoid UNIT these days."

"You and me both." Sarah Jane shook her head fondly, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Is this goodbye?"

"Nah!" the Doctor rebuffed with a scoff, and Sarah Jane looked visibly crestfallen. Brendan felt a pang of sympathy for the woman, recalling the wish she'd shared with him over the Tylers' dining table. "Tell you what," the Doctor continued. "We're gonna go find the TARDIS now, clean ourselves up. But… head to the Powell Estate on Friday. Keep an eye out."

"You'll be there?" Sarah Jane perked up hopefully.

"It's a promise," the Doctor vowed solemnly. A flicker of doubt shadowed Sarah Jane's face, but Brendan had to commend her for not allowing it to mar her pretty smile. The alien nodded at her, before fixing his stare on Brendan. "Be seeing you, Brendan."

"Yeah," Brendan mumbled, suddenly finding himself unable to speak.

The Doctor smiled, before quietly spinning around and gesturing for Rose and Mickey to follow him. As they delved further and further into the wreckage, Brendan found himself staring at their retreating forms, the desire to hurry after them and say what he needed them to know conflicting with the impulse to run home and let his family know he was alright. He turned to Sarah Jane for advice, but she was already reporting the situation to someone over the phone.

He turned back to look at the Doctor, but the man rounded a corner and disappeared from view. His decision cemented by that single act, Brendan rushed after him, pushing through the rubble just in time to see Rose and Mickey step into the TARDIS.

"Doctor!" Brendan called out before he could do the same. The man in question whirled around, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Brendan!" the Doctor cried, eyes alight with pleasant surprise. He stepped away from the TARDIS door, padding a little closer with a bright smile.

Brendan simply watched him for a moment, stumped for words. Here he was, stood before an alien who travelled around stopping injustices and saving people as a day job; he may have a foul temper at times, and Brendan was starting to realise that he had a tendency to ramble, but the Doctor was, without a doubt, the most magnificent man he'd ever met.

"I just wanted to say," Brendan started, before trailing off abruptly, wondering how he could possibly express his relief and gratitude in a compact, understandable sentence. He exhaled deeply to centre himself, and met the Doctor's curious stare. "Thanks" he said simply. "Seriously, just – thank you."

"It was my pleasure," the Doctor grinned.

Brendan shuffled a little awkwardly, realising that their time was limited. "Where will you guys go now?" he asked curiously.

" _Oh_ ," the Doctor drawled, "clean ourselves up, I expect. Explosions play havoc with the hair. See?" He playfully ruffled dirt and soot out of his hair in demonstration. "And then we'll go see Sarah Jane. After that…" His eyes glinted. "Who knows?"

Brendan frowned, caught on a specific part of the Doctor's plans. "But you said you were gonna see Sarah Jane on Friday."

"Yeah," the Doctor chirped nonchalantly.

"So… you're gonna stick around in the box for three days?" Brendan inquired doubtfully. From what he remembered, the TARDIS was huge inside, but he would probably go stir-crazy staying in there longer than he had to.

"Ah. I never told you, did I?" The Doctor grinned broadly, looking very much like the cat who caught the canary. He proudly jerked a thumb at the blue box. "The TARDIS, Brendan, it travels in _time_."

Brendan scoffed before he even processed the words fully. "Yeah, right!"

"It's true," the Doctor said, undeterred. "Time and Relative Dimensions in Space – my very own time machine. And space machine. And all the bits in-between machine."

Brendan wanted to dispute his claim, but faltered when he reconsidered everything he'd heard ever since he'd become acquainted with the Doctor; the species that were apparently known as the Time Lords, Finch's desire to break down the laws of time and space, and Jackie's offhanded comment at the kitchen table.

"Jackie mentioned you and Rose travel around time and space," he vocalised slowly, feeling ridiculous for even saying it out loud.

"She wasn't exaggerating. Perhaps for the first time in her life," the Doctor muttered snidely, and Brendan couldn't help but crack a smile.

"So, back when you told me the TARDIS could take you anywhere…"

"I meant it." The Doctor's eyes twinkled. "I can travel anywhere in time and space."

"No limits?"

"Not even the sky," the Doctor boasted.

Brendan smiled wistfully at the thought. "Sounds nice."

"I suppose it is," the Doctor mused, stuffing his hands into pockets and casting a glance at the remains of Deffry Vale. "What will you do now?"

"I dunno," Brendan replied honestly. "I'll figure something out."

"You could –" The Doctor cut himself off so sharply that Brendan was concerned he might have keeled over. He waited patiently as the alien flapped his mouth open and closed for several seconds, before giving up with an irritated huff and rocking on the soles of his feet. "You've finished school, haven't you?"

Brendan looked to Deffry Vale. "Yeah. Don't know what's going to happen with my exams, but I'm basically done."

The Doctor nodded. "And how's the family?"

"They're alright."

"Coping after the Sycorax?" the Doctor inquired.

"Yeah. I don't think they even remember it," Brendan admitted. "But they're –" He stopped himself before he could say _happy_. "They're coping."

"Good. That's… good." They remained like that for a while, awkwardly shuffling in each other's company. Brendan pursed his lips, wondering if he should be the one to end the stilted conversation, when the Doctor spoke up again. "I was asking because – well, I was just wondering that you could… come with us."

Brendan perked up immediately, surprised that the Doctor had beat him to the suggestion. "I can go with you?"

"Course you can," the Doctor said nonchalantly.

Brendan grinned, ready to accept the offer with reckless abandon, when he hesitated. How could he leave his mum without telling her that he was going away for a while? He had to pack, and he had to sort out the issue with his A Levels, otherwise he was carelessly tossing away the very reason he'd denied the Doctor's offer the first time around.

To his credit, the alien seemed to sense his discomfort and offered him a dazzling grin. "Take some time to think about it," he suggested. "Get everything sorted out."

"But…" Brendan hesitated. "When will I see you again?"

The Doctor frowned. "I dunno," he confessed, seeming to take a minute to ponder it over, before he declared with a burst of energy, "Friday! I'll see you on Friday. That's when we're meeting Sarah Jane, after all."

"Friday." Brendan nodded, satisfied for a second before a well of questions bubbled up inside him again. "What time? Where on the estate are you gonna be? What do I need to pack?"

"Again with the loaded comments," the Doctor remarked cheekily. "Just… listen out. You'll hear us sooner or later."

Brendan wanted to press for more conclusive answers, but the Doctor held up a hand to forestall any queries. He got the message, and quietened.

Satisfied, the Doctor nodded and stepped back into the TARDIS, stopping briefly in the doorway to shoot a glimpse his way. "You're gonna want to stay for this bit."

Brendan furrowed his brow, trying to glimpse into the magical realm inside the blue box for answers, but the Doctor decisively shut the door before he could so much as peer. It would've been logical to choose that moment to leave, but the Doctor's words left him rooted to the spot in intrigue.

For a few moments, nothing happened, and then a powerful, wheezing groan eclipsed the distant blare of the emergency services, and a sudden gust of powerful wind left him breathless as the TARDIS started to fade in and out of view. Brendan stared, mesmerised by the display, until the wonderful box faded out of sight. He counted up to a minute, and – concluding that the trio of adventurers were gone for good – turned and headed back to the school exit.

* * *

Slipping past the emergency services had been easy enough. They merely regarded him as an errant troublemaker and granted him passage to the outside world. Brendan had tried looking for Sarah Jane, but the journalist seemed just as capable of pulling vanishing acts like the Doctor. So, with nothing else to do, he went home.

As soon as Brendan stepped through the front door, his mother jumped him.

"Mum," he said, trying to make himself heard over her frantic rapid-fire questions. "I'm alright, Mum."

"But the _school_ —" Sofia protested.

"Yeah, I know," Brendan sighed. He tossed a glance over his shoulder, pretending that he could see the Doctor, Rose and Mickey in the courtyard below. It was empty, of course, but his imagination had always been boundless.

"I'm just glad you're safe," Sofia said at last.

"Yeah," Brendan smiled. "Me too."

Sofia moved aside to let him into the house, and Brendan quickly slipped out of her grasp and bounded into the living room, ready to collapse on the sofa and sleep for days. His legs were aching, and he was sweaty and covered in soot, but that could all wait for later.

He was just getting comfortable when a shadow fell over him. Opening one eye, he spied Nathan ogling him. "What d'you want," he mumbled sleepily.

"Heard you almost died," Nathan remarked with the careful air of a teenager who wanted to create the illusion that he could care less. "Who blew up the school?"

"Dunno," Brendan said, impressed by his own capability to lie so quickly. "We were just forced out of the school for some reason, and then the school blew up."

"Was it terrorists?" Nathan asked, his excitement leaking slightly into his tone. Brendan shrugged one shoulder, and rolled over when Nathan padded away in disappointed disinterest. He yawned gregariously, allowing himself to succumb to the overwhelming fatigue.

He was on the brink of nodding off when the sofa dipped with added weight, and a hand combed through his hair. He blinked up irritably at his mum, but she continued stroking his hair unhindered.

"Mio caro," Sofia sighed sadly. "What are we going to do about your exams?"

"The government will sort it out or something," Brendan said casually. "Nothing for us to worry about, right?"

"I suppose," Sofia said uncertainly. "It's all just a mess, isn't it? It's going to set your travels back."

"Actually," Brendan pushed himself upright. "I wanted to talk to you about that…"

* * *

The next morning held a state of uncertainty for the Ambrosi-Jackmans. They all sat around the kitchen table, unsure of how they were supposed to progress. Brendan had naturally been given the day off school, as had every other student at Deffry Vale, which provided a source of contention for Nathan, who was still expected to go to his own school.

Brendan tuned him out fairly quickly, but even he couldn't begrudge his brother for his petulant whining. It helped to liven up the house, so when he departed for school and his mum went to deal with her next big event, Brendan found himself aimlessly trawling through television channels, unable to satisfy his own boredom.

He briefly considered going upstairs to talk to Jackie, but didn't get very far in that thought process before there was a steady knock on the door. Perplexed by the unexpected intrusion, Brendan crossed over to the door and pulled it open, staring at the suited man stood before him.

"I'm looking for Brendan Ambrosi-Jackman," the man drawled, his tone as dry as his expression.

"That's me," Brendan replied uncertainly. "Can I… help you?"

The man looked him up and down – as if he were trying to determine whether Brendan was worth his time – before nodding curtly and producing an envelope.

Brendan stared at the package uneasily. "What is it?"

"A package from Mr Harold Saxon," the man explained. "He specified it as a gift for you."

Spurred by his curiosity, Brendan accepted the package and looked it over, trying to glean the contents from the A4 shape. He prepared to tear the opening, when the man held up a hand.

"I must inform you that he's expecting you on the roof."

"Who is?"

"Mr Saxon."

Brendan frowned, looking at the ceiling as if that would solve his confusion. He turned to question the man, but he had already strode away. Brendan looked down at the sealed letter again, and deciding that he had nothing better to do, pulled his trainers on and left the house, navigating himself to the rooftop.

Just as promised, Harold Saxon was stood leaning against the railing, looking deep in thought. Brendan didn't know why the sight surprised him as much as it did, but he didn't have any time to announce his presence before the politician's eyes landed on him.

"Ah." The corners of Saxon's lips lifted into a small smile. "Mr Ambrosi."

Brendan waved stiltedly. "Hi," he said nervously. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Saxon pushed off the railing, coming to stand directly in Brendan's personal space. Brendan could feel the man's breath ruffling his hair from such close proximity, and fought to retain a shiver. He focused on Saxon's crisp black suit, so he didn't have to look the man directly in the eye.

"I wanted to see how you were," Saxon said sweetly. "I heard Deffry Vale was blown up by terrorists yesterday."

Brendan struggled to form coherent sentences for a minute, but eventually managed to croak, "Yeah."

Saxon chuckled, a low rumble that rippled across his body, a movement Brendan couldn't help but catch. A forefinger and thumb was pressed under his chin, and his head was gently tilted upwards, until he was staring into deep brown eyes that seemed to _radiate_ with power.

Brendan looked fixedly at them, becoming more and more transfixed the longer he stood there. Saxon's warm breath brushed against his cheeks, and he found himself leaning forward slightly. The politician made no move to stop him at first, but the very moment before their lips met, he moved away with a coquettish grin.

"Have you received my letter yet?" Saxon asked conversationally.

Brendan blinked, too absorbed by the fog in his mind to properly comprehend the words directed at him. "Er…" he said quietly, trying to catch up. After what felt like ages, he eventually managed to snap out of his daze, and embarrassedly looked down at the package in his hand, wondering how he could have allowed himself to act so recklessly. "Yeah. Yeah, I did, thanks."

"Have you opened it?" Saxon broached, his voice dripping with knowing amusement.

"Not yet," Brendan admitted. Saxon gestured at the envelope with a single hand, leaning against the plateau with folded arms. Realising what was being asked of him, Brendan gently prised off the covering and pulled out the sheet of paper. He read it once, and then again, and again, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

"But –" Brendan met the politician's smug grin with wide eyes. " _How_?"

"I'm Minister of Defence," Saxon replied with a nonchalant shrug, as if that explained everything. "I do everything in the name of _peace and security_." His words dripped with sarcasm, but his smile remained intact. "It was only fair a valuable asset like you achieved your grades a little earlier than the others."

Brendan pored over the sheet of A Level results again. "They're all As," he squeaked.

"That's what you were predicted," Saxon reminded him. " _Very_ commendable. I think that deserves a few months off from dealing with the lesser ones."

"But… I didn't sit any exams," Brendan said. He didn't know why he kept picking at flaws. It was all a bit of a shock.

"Details," Saxon smirked. "And I'm not taking them back. They're yours."

Brendan didn't know what came over him. He approached Saxon – tentative at first, before breaking into a confident stride – and threw his arms around the older man. "Thanks," he mumbled into the man's shoulder.

To his relief, Saxon wrapped one arm around the small of his back and pulled him close. "Believe me, Brendan Ambrosi, the pleasure is all mine."

They pulled apart eventually, but Saxon kept his arm wrapped around Brendan's waist, holding him close. For once, Brendan didn't find himself worrying about being caught in close proximity with another man.

"What will you do now?" Saxon asked him.

Brendan considered. There really wasn't anything holding him back now. "Travel," he said confidently. "I'm gonna go all sorts of places."

Saxon nodded, satisfied with the answer. "I like the sound of that."

"Me too," Brendan chuckled. Saxon joined in, and when they both sobered, he caressed Brendan's cheek thoughtfully.

"When you come back, there'll be a job waiting for you," Saxon informed him softly.

"Really?" Brendan said just as softly, surprise and gratitude mixing into a single, confusing emotion.

Saxon simply nodded. "You'll be the most gorgeous PA," he vowed lowly. "But first you need to get out there. Got it?"

"Got it," Brendan confirmed.

A pleased smile spread across Saxon's lips at that. He leaned in closer, brushing Brendan's chin with the tips of his fingers. "I'll see you soon, Brendan Ambrosi."

And with that final remark, Harold Saxon turned and left the roof, leaving Brendan alone with his thoughts and the sheet of paper that decided the course of his life.

* * *

Brendan had expected the explanation to his mother about his exams results to be a long and difficult one, but the same bored-looking man who'd swung by earlier had showed up to explain the situation on Mr Saxon's behalf. His mother had nodded along to it all, supposing it made sense, and then swamped her son with showers of affection as soon as the man left the house.

Thursday passed by pretty quickly after that. The day had been rife with celebrations. The house had been packed to the brim with guests for the party, courtesy of the combined might of his mother and Jackie Tyler, and everyone had a good time. Everyone except Brendan, who snuck off to the rooftop when everybody else was distracted and dreamt of the stars.

His mum helped him to pack that night, eager for him to get out there and see the world. Nathan had sat cross-legged on his bed, fiddling with his Nintendo DS and making no move to help, though he did exchange several mutinously teasing words with Brendan when they thought their mother's back was turned.

In spite of his brother's snoring, Brendan fell asleep that night with a light heart.

When it was finally became Friday, all of Brendan's anxieties hit him full-force. He was so jittery at breakfast that he couldn't even hold onto his plate without shaking. His brother mocked him for it all throughout the morning, but Brendan couldn't find it in himself to care about his teasing; he was too nervous about his rendezvous with the Doctor.

He listened out constantly for the sound of the TARDIS, which wasn't the most productive use of his time, but it was better than lugging his bag down the stairs at the beck and call of anything that vaguely resembled a wheezing groan. When his mother asked him when he was expecting to leave, he just gave her the same answer: 'when they come to pick me up'.

It was a flimsy answer, and they both knew it, but she generally left him alone after that. Two hours into waiting, Nathan plopped easily onto the sofa with a languid sigh.

Brendan shot him a side-eyed glare. "Get lost."

"Nah," Nathan said easily. "When you gonna leave?"

"When they come to pick me up," Brendan replied shortly. Frustratingly, Nathan simply hummed.

"Where you gonna go?"

"Everywhere."

"You can't go everywhere," Nathan scoffed.

"Watch me," Brendan retorted challengingly.

"Whatever," Nathan scoffed. "Can I have your bed?"

" _No_ , you freak," Brendan spluttered, genuinely caught off-guard by the question.

"But it's by the window," Nathan reasoned.

"I don't care."

They lapsed into a considerate silence, the kind only brothers could be comfortable in. Brendan kept his gaze fixed on the door, but he could feel Nathan's analysing stare boring into him.

"What?" he sighed, unable to ignore the intense gaze.

"When you're going and stuff –"

"I told you –"

"Yeah, I know," Nathan interjected. "But, you gonna call while you're away, or…?"

"Yeah, I'll call," Brendan assured him, surprised that Nathan even felt the need to ask.

"Cause you know Mum's gonna miss you."

"Yeah, course."

"And you're her favourite," Nathan added.

Brendan rolled his eyes. "She doesn't _have_ favour –"

"Yeah, she does," Nathan interrupted again, decidedly bitter. "Mum always preferred you, like Dad prefers me."

Brendan pressed his lips into a thin line. "You gotta get over Dad."

"Why should I?" Nathan sulked. Sometimes he acted more like a five year old child than a fifteen year old teenager.

"If he cared, he wouldn't have gotten wasted all the time," Brendan started measuredly.

"Oh, forget about the bottle," Nathan huffed heatedly. "It's not that big a deal. People drink all the damn time!"

"Yeah, but most people don't sling verbal abuse cause of it." Nathan turned away with a disgruntled huff, sparking a wave of irritation that coursed through Brendan's veins. "Or get off their faces with their mates."

The sharp, betrayed glare was boring into him before the words even left Brendan's lips, the implication deadly clear. "That ain't got nothing to do with this," Nathan barked defensively.

"You need to stop trying to be whatever you think Dad is," Brendan advised him.

"I'm not _trying_ to be –"

Brendan scoffed derisively. "That's bullshit and you know it. Look what you're doing to Mum."

"I'm not doing _anything_ to Mum," Nathan scowled petulantly. "If I was, she'd say, wouldn't she? But she doesn't say nothing."

"She talks more to you than Dad ever did."

"Whatever." Nathan kissed his teeth and skulked away, hands clenched into fists by his side. Brendan sighed deeply and rested his head against the armrest, tired of reliving the same conversation over and over again. He wondered if they would ever reach an impasse, him and Nathan – maybe one day they'd understand each other.

His ruminations were disrupted by a sharp knock at the front door. He leaned against the sofa, peering at it hopefully, but before he could bolt towards it, his mum beat him to it and opened the door to reveal Sarah Jane.

"Hello?" Sofia said quizzically, clearly surprised by the new arrival.

Sarah Jane smiled politely. "Hello, my name is Sarah Jane Smith."

From Brendan's perch, he could see the way his mother's back straightened in recognition. "Oh, yes! You're the journalist!"

"Oh." Sarah Jane looked taken aback. "Yes, I am."

"Jackie mentioned you," Sofia explained. "She said she made a new friend."

Sarah Jane smiled slightly at the news. "I see."

"So, how can I help you?"

"Actually, I was hoping to speak to Brendan." Sarah Jane looked past Sofia and made eye contact with him, a warm smile gracing her lips. "He promised me an interview about Deffry Vale."

"Oh, he's actually waiting on –" Sofia started, but Brendan hurried over and barged into the conversation.

"It's okay, Mum, we won't go far," he promised. Sofia still looked reluctant, so Sarah Jane backed him up, offering her number if it would help.

"No, no," Sofia said firmly. "Just make sure you don't miss your ride."

Brendan quickly realised that she had only wanted to spend time with him before he set off, so he gave her a brief hug and promised he wouldn't.

"Remember to call, caro," she chided gently. It seemed everybody was getting on his case about that today.

"I will," he promised for the umpteenth time. Satisfied, Sofia lovingly combed through his hair a final time and then let him out the front door.

Sarah Jane, who had respectfully turned her head away at the intimately familial display, politely stepped aside and waved at Sofia as she shut the front door. "I need to talk to you," she said afterwards.

Brendan adjusted the backpack on his shoulder and gestured for her to follow him. He led her up to the only spot where they were guaranteed to not be disturbed: the rooftop. As he settled on the plateau, he couldn't help but anxiously ask, "Have you seen him yet?"

"Not yet," Sarah Jane admitted. "You're waiting on him, too, aren't you?"

Brendan nodded. "I'm gonna go travelling with them."

"Ah. That explains why you're packed." Sarah Jane ran a critical eye over his clothes, seemingly weighing up some internal analysis about his hoodie, jeans and trainers. Then, she nodded in satisfaction. "You're certainly dressed for it."

Brendan grinned. "I didn't want to go overboard, but I've got shorts and things for when we go someplace boiling." He smiled self-consciously. "Mum's idea."

"Your mum had the right idea," Sarah Jane said, coming to sit beside him. "I had to rely on the TARDIS wardrobe half the time."

"The TARDIS has a wardrobe?" Brendan said in surprise.

Sarah Jane smiled at him. "There's a whole world in there just waiting to be explored. Make sure you find the time to do that."

Brendan nodded seriously, filing away the mental note for later use. "You said you wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes, I do," Sarah Jane sighed. "It's about travelling with the Doctor."

Brendan perked up in surprise. "You already knew?"

"I know the signs," Sarah Jane confirmed. "And I wanted to warn you beforehand."

Brendan's smile dulled. "Warn me about what?"

Sarah Jane looked out over the horizon. "It's breath-taking out there, Brendan. There are so many sights and wonders. But you're younger than I was when I met the Doctor, and you're younger than Rose. I want you to promise that you won't get too attached."

"Why?" Brendan couldn't help but blurt out.

"Because it's like I told Mr Finch: everything comes to an end. Life with the Doctor is so fast and wonderful, and you'll begin to lose sight of yourself, but it'll end far too soon. I can only hope you decide to leave on your own right, because the alternatives are far worse." She grasped his hands. "Listen to me. When the time comes and you want to leave, or you feel you have to, for whatever reason, do it. Otherwise you'll be left on the side of the road wondering if you'll ever get closure. Or worse."

"Sure."

"I need you to tell me you understand," Sarah Jane insisted. "I want you to know that it'll come to an end from the get-go, so you don't end up like –" She cut herself off, but they both knew that she was talking about Rose, or herself, or both.

Brendan pursed his lips uncertainly. "I have one question."

"Shoot."

He looked her right in the eye. "All that time you spent with the Doctor – do you regret it?"

"Not for a second," Sarah Jane said easily. That cemented his answer.

Brendan nodded confidently. "I understand," he told her firmly. He knew Sarah Jane was only looking out for him, and he couldn't begrudge her advice. The thought of losing sight of his family, of his very core, terrified him.

"Good." Sarah Jane leaned back, satisfied with his answer. "If you ever need anyone to talk to, anyone who understands the life you're about to embark on, find me. I'll always be willing to listen."

"I will," Brendan assured her, offering a small, tentative smile. "Thanks."

It was in that moment that a wheezing groan started to fill the air, distant at first, but growing in pitch. Brendan rushed over to the railing, a strange sense of hope filling his being, as the blue box appeared at the very end of the courtyard.

"I never thought I'd hear that sound again," Sarah Jane admitted as she came to a stop beside him. "But it never leaves you. Are you ready to go?"

Brendan nodded; he'd packed, tied up his loose ends, secured a job for himself upon his return, and had said his goodbyes. He was ready.

* * *

They stepped out onto the courtyard, the weak spring sunlight washing over them as they started to cross over to the other end. Sarah Jane led the way, striding with confidence, and Brendan tagged along behind her with wide-eyed excitement, feeling very much like a kid on his way to a school trip. Waiting for him at the finishing line was the opportunity of a lifetime.

They rounded a corner, and Brendan froze up. He could see Sarah Jane slowing to a halt in his periphery, curiously glancing between him and the drunk man lounging on the bench. Brendan clenched his fists and resumed walking, managing to stride a few metres from the bench before the man started yelling for him.

"Oi, you ungrateful child," came the slurred bellow. "Look at me when I'm talking to you! Come here right now!"

"Do you know him?" Sarah Jane asked him, her eyes alight with journalistic curiosity.

"I'll catch up," Brendan mumbled embarrassedly, looking away so he didn't have to look her in the eye. Sarah Jane seemed to understand, and continued walking to the end of the courtyard where the TARDIS awaited.

Once he was certain he wouldn't scream right in the man's face, Brendan whirled around to face the drunk, defensively stuffing his hands into his pockets. "What?" he said tonelessly.

Kevin Jackman snorted derisively. "That's all you've got to say?" He swung off the bench and staggered over to him. For a man who was sleeping on a mate's couch, Kevin looked frustratingly put together, discounting the beer can clenched between his fingers. He had always been a day drinker.

"What's with the bag?" Kevin demanded. "You going somewhere?"

"Out."

"Out where?"

Brendan looked anywhere but him. "Just out," he said tersely.

"With a girl?" Kevin's tone adopted a light-hearted playfulness that had no place in their strained relationship.

"No."

"That's what I used to say," Kevin chuckled. "Who is it, then? I bet it's the butcher's girl."

"I'm not going out with a girl."

"Who's it then? That woman?" Kevin sneered. "Bit old. Only one who'd take you, is she?"

Brendan kissed his teeth and considered leaving his father where he stood, but something compelled him to say, "I'm going travelling."

"What?" Kevin snorted sceptically. "With what money?"

"Scholarship," Brendan said simply, feeding him the same lie Saxon's aide had told his mother.

"And you're leaving your mother to raise a fifteen-year-old kid by herself?" Kevin said critically. Brendan scowled. Once again the man was trying to find fault in everything he did. He was like an eternal half-empty glass of cynicism.

"You left her first."

"She kicked me out," Kevin retorted. It was telling that he thought that she would do such a thing for no reason. "How long will you be gone?" Kevin asked reluctantly.

Brendan considered not answering him, but decided it wouldn't be worth five seconds of satisfaction if he had to put up with his dad's moaning. "Sometime next year," he said evasively.

"You don't know?" Kevin said patronisingly. "You should really outline these things. Think ahead for once. What about uni?"

Brendan rolled his eyes. "I'm going now." He spun around and stalked down the road, ready to put it all behind him, when –

"I know what you think of me," Kevin called out. "But you just don't get what it's like to be ashamed."

Brendan didn't even break stride. The last thing he ever wanted was to be an embarrassment to his family, but his dad had been a bigger source of shame for eleven years. And now he had a chance to put it all behind him and put his desires first, without being held back emotionally or financially, and he intended to enjoy it.

With that in mind, Brendan didn't look back, because he knew his father was expecting him to.

"Is everything alright?" Sarah Jane asked when he finally caught up, glancing suspiciously over his shoulder.

Brendan forced a smile. "Yeah. Just confirming things I already knew."

Sarah Jane couldn't have hidden her intrigue even if she tried, but she thankfully didn't push the matter; instead, she gestured towards the TARDIS.

The mere sight of the blue box glinting in the sunlight was like a salve to Brendan's wounds. He drifted towards it without quite realising, his feet moving of their own accord.

When he finally reached it, the door swung open, and the Doctor stepped out with a grin, hand in his pockets, his eyes flitting between Brendan and Sarah Jane. The first thing Brendan noticed was the fact that he'd changed his shirt. It was such a random, little thing, but it assuaged the remaining traces of concern that he was being lied to.

The Doctor's eyes rested on Brendan's backpack, and though he didn't say anything, a bright grin curled around his lips. Brendan couldn't help but mirror it.

"Cup of tea?" He nodded towards the blue box, stepping aside to grant him entry. Even from the outside, Brendan could see the cool blue glow, and he turned to Sarah Jane excitedly; she nodded, and he took that as permission to dart inside.

The TARDIS interior was just as magnificent as he remembered. He scurried up the ramp, drinking in every detail.

"Wasn't expecting to see you here," Mickey said playfully from his spot on the jump seat.

Brendan hesitated, momentarily panicked by the notion the Doctor hadn't actually informed them that he had chosen to tag along.

"Ah, don't listen to him," Rose said, her lips splitting into a huge grin as she bounded up to him and gave him a hug. "You're coming with us now, yeah?"

"Yeah, if it's okay," Brendan said as he pulled away.

"Course it is! It's brilliant!" she beamed.

Brendan beamed back. "Great!" He turned to Mickey, expecting a similar reception, but the older man was frowning contemplatively. He furrowed his brow, about to ask if everything was okay, when Sarah Jane's reverent tone had everyone turning to her.

"You've redecorated," the journalist breathed.

"D'you like it?" the Doctor asked.

"Oh, I – I do, yeah." Sarah Jane delved further inside, resting her hand on a coral strut and staring up at the ceiling in awe. Brendan couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since she'd last stepped foot inside the blue box. "I preferred it as it was, but, er… yeah. It'll do."

"You mean it can change what it looks like?" Brendan interjected curiously, staring at the rotor in surprise.

"Oh, yes," the Doctor crowed. "Got some desktops here and there for the old girl."

Brendan turned to Sarah Jane. "How did yours look?"

"Oh…" Sarah Jane was speechless for a moment, overwhelmed by her memories. "It was magnificent."

"I love this one," Rose spoke up, and Sarah Jane turned to her with a grin.

"Hey, you!" she said affectionately. "What's forty-seven times three-hundred and sixty-nine?"

"No idea," Rose admitted blithely. "It's gone now. The oil's faded."

Brendan was stunned by the admission, realising it to be true. In all the chaos, he had completely forgotten about the Krillitane oil. He almost longed for that knowledge in his mind again. Almost.

"But you're still clever," Sarah Jane said surely. "More than a match for _him_." She nodded towards the Doctor in illustration.

"You and me both," Rose replied with a grin. For a moment, they just stood there smiling at each other – any trace of animosity well and truly abolished – until Rose angled herself towards the console. "Doctor?" she prompted.

The Doctor, who had been fiddling with something or other, looked up. Realisation seemed to hit him. "Erm," he started, glancing at Rose, before meeting Sarah Jane's gaze with a bashful grin. "Assuming Brendan's said all his goodbyes, we're about to head off. It'll be a full house, but… you could come with us, too," he suggested hopefully.

All eyes turned to Sarah Jane. She was clearly surprised by the offer, and her eyes kept flitting between their hopeful grins with a breathless smile.

Finally, the woman shook her head. "I can't do this anymore," she admitted.

Brendan's face dropped at the answer. He hadn't realised how much he actually wanted Sarah Jane to come along until she'd refused, and yet he couldn't find it in himself to be surprised. She'd always said the only thing she wanted was to say goodbye properly. He glanced around the TARDIS room to absorb the Doctor and Rose's disappointed expressions.

"Besides, I've got a much bigger adventure ahead!" she backpedalled brightly, clearly trying to brighten their moods. "Time I stopped waiting for you and found a life of my own." She directed towards the Doctor, who jutted his chin in embarrassment. Brendan didn't miss the way Rose grinned slyly at him. She was probably going to spring that one on him at any given opportunity.

"Can I come?" Mickey spoke up, breaking the thoughtful silence. "Not, not with you," he hastily amended when Sarah Jane looked mildly alarmed. "I mean, with you –" he gestured towards the Doctor. "Cause I'm not the tin dog, and I want to see what's out there."

Brendan turned to the Doctor expectantly. He didn't see any reason why he should be granted such an amazing opportunity if Mickey wasn't given the same treatment. His heart sank the longer he looked at the Doctor's reticent expression, and he was certain that the man's mind had already been made up.

"Oh, go on, Doctor!" Sarah Jane urged lightly. "Sarah Jane Smith, a _Mickey Smith_! You need a Smith on board!"

The Doctor's response was instant. "Okay, then, I could do with a laugh."

Mickey cheered silently, and Brendan couldn't help but grin at the infectious response. "In it together now," Mickey said, high-fiving him delightedly.

They all turned to Rose – expecting some sort of response from her – but she had her back to them. Brendan frowned. He'd thought she'd have been the happiest of them all. He shot a look at Sarah Jane, and knew she was thinking the same thing.

"Rose, is that okay?" Mickey said unsurely.

"No, great," Rose shot back half-heartedly. "Why not?"

It was as if the temperature had drastically dropped down. Everyone exchanged awkward glances with each other, almost scared to speak. Brendan hoped this wouldn't become a common occurrence.

"Well, I'd better go," Sarah Jane bravely spoke up, turning to the Doctor with a teasing grin. "Jackie's promised me a cup of tea. And then I've got to get the train, since you blew up my car. I'd forgotten how much it costs, being around you!"

"Comes with the territory," the Doctor said easily. Sarah Jane chuckled and turned away, but Brendan didn't miss the meaningful look she shot Rose before she took the younger girl aside. He took the opportunity to sidle up beside Mickey.

"You okay?" he asked lowly, so Rose didn't overhear.

"Yeah, great," Mickey said sullenly. "Never better."

Brendan winced, feeling guilty on his behalf. He plastered on a bright smile and nudged him playfully. "You never showed me your victory dance."

"Guess not," Mickey mumbled.

"And you can now," Brendan continued, undeterred. "It's a good thing you're coming too. I hate third-wheeling."

Mickey grinned at him, a marked improvement to his sullen disappointment. "Same," he admitted.

"Bye, everybody," Sarah Jane called out a final time. Brendan turned in time to see her descend the ramp, where the Doctor was waiting for her. They both stepped out, closing the door behind them, and Brendan knew that they were having a private moment.

He felt awkward just standing around, uncertain of what to do with himself, so he collapsed on the jump seat and waited for the Doctor to resurface. A few moments later, the door swung open and the alien strode back in, heading towards the console with a secretive smile.

"Think she got it?" Rose asked vaguely.

"She's about to find out," the Doctor said cheerily, slamming down a lever with vigour. The groaning noise filled the TARDIS, and Brendan couldn't help but stare at the blue rotor, ascending and descending almost hypnotically. So this was what it was like to take off in the TARDIS from an insider's perspective, all noise and energy. "Right!" the Doctor boomed suddenly, startling Brendan. "I only have one thing to say."

The Doctor was looking stonily at him, and he wondered if he'd done something wrong. Brendan made to stand up from the jump seat, in case that was the problem, but the Doctor simply held up a hand. Brendan sat back down, exchanging a baffled look with Rose and Mickey.

"Brendan," the Doctor said meaningfully, with the air of someone who was about to impart life-changing information. "Are you gonna wear that all the time?"

It took Brendan far longer than he'd care to admit to realise the Doctor was referring to his backpack. "Oh," he said embarrassedly. "I thought you'd want this area clean or something."

"Nah," the Doctor said airily.

"Oh, makes a change," Rose said teasingly. "Usually he gets stressed out if something's out of place."

"Oi!" the Doctor cried indignantly.

Brendan laughed and slipped the bag off his shoulders. "Is there anywhere I can put this?"

"Oh, plenty of places. We've got bedrooms here — somewhere," the Doctor boasted, tugging on his ear. "Rose'll show you."

"Right," Rose clapped her hands theatrically. "Follow me to begin your guided tour of the good ship TARDIS." She marched through an archway and turned right, Mickey on her heels.

"Wrong way!" the Doctor called out before Brendan could follow them, and he laughed when the duo backtracked in the opposite direction. He peered wondrously into the TARDIS corridors, amazed by the coral snaking around the walls like twisting coils. He hesitated in the archway, turning back to the Doctor curiously; he had returned to fiddling with the controls. Brendan pondered whether it was a habitual thing or just routine maintenance.

"Doctor?" he blurted before he could think of what he wanted to say. The Doctor turned to him, eyebrows arched, and Brendan decided, in that moment, that there was only one question he wanted answered. "D'you think you'll see her again?"

The Doctor's eyes misted over, but not from the anger he'd demonstrated with Finch. This was a more melancholy uncertainty. "I don't know," he said truthfully.

"I hope you do," Brendan said honestly. "She made you happy."

The Doctor's lips quirked into a fond smile. "That she did."

The conversation naturally petered off after that. Brendan slung his backpack over his shoulder once again, ready to join the tour, when –

"Brendan?" the Doctor called out. Brendan turned with furrowed eyebrows. The man grinned at him, arms folded across his chest. "Welcome aboard," he said softly.

"Thanks," Brendan smiled. "Good to be here."

The Doctor redirected his attention to the console after that, and Brendan turned to chase after Rose and Mickey, warm smile intact, ready for the adventure that assuredly awaited him.


	6. The Girl in the Fireplace

The first time Brendan had stepped foot inside the TARDIS, he'd been distracted by the unconscious Doctor and the Sycorax threat.

Now that he was standing here, four months later and off the back of facing down his alien teachers, he was struck by its magnificence. There was the console room, with its pulsing coral structures and metal walkways, but beyond that was a whole other world. Corridors that stretched as far as he could see and wrapped around each other in an intrinsic loop, offering a host of different rooms, promising different worlds through each door.

It was _beautiful_. He better understood why Rose had chosen this life of mystery and adventure now. He even said as much as she guided them through the TARDIS halls, lugging his backpack along like a child at a boarding school.

"You ain't seen nothing yet," Rose said with a broad grin, leading them through the labyrinthine maze of corridors and abruptly stopping at a junction. "Bedroom quarters," she revealed brightly, grandly spreading her arms to point at both routes. "Boys on the left, girls on the right."

"Seriously?" Mickey said incredulously.

"Yup," Rose said stiffly. "TARDIS is a bit regimented like that."

"It's like when you came to sleepover when we were kids," Mickey said nostalgically, and for the first time since he'd asked to join the crew, Rose shot him a friendly grin.

"I got your room. You had to sleep on the sofa." They both chuckled at the memory. Brendan smiled to himself, glad that they were getting along. Once she'd sobered, Rose clapped her hands, grabbing his attention. "Right, bedrooms. Keep walking and the TARDIS will lead you to them."

"But how will I know which one's mine?" Brendan asked worriedly.

"Trust me," Rose grinned, "you'll know."

With that cryptic remark, she disappeared down another corridor. Brendan and Mickey shared a puzzled, slightly intimidated, look before they started their voyage down the corridor Rose had specified for them.

"Oh," Brendan squeaked quietly as he came to a stop in front of a white marble door. He gestured at the plaque with ' _Brendan_ ' scrawled in neat, cursive writing. "I guess this is me."

Mickey nodded and left him to it, disappearing further down the corridor in search of his own bedroom. Brendan shifted the bag on his shoulder, taking a moment to steady himself for whatever was on the other side. He wasn't sure he was ready, but he did know that if he didn't step through now, he'd chicken out and remain discontented forever.

Inhaling steadily, he tugged on the brass handle and pushed the door open, only to have the breath stolen away from him.

His eyes roamed the rustic bedroom that was as large as the one he'd shared with his brother: exposed brickwork ran along the wall, supported by wooden beams in a manner that reminded Brendan of the coral structure of the console room; a dark oak bookcase and desk were placed side-by-side, and there was a large armoire. Brendan pulled it open experimentally, and then shut it again after his suspicions were confirmed.

He turned and focused on the upholstered king-sized bed. It was handcrafted from a fine wood he didn't know the name of, adorned by white flannel sheets and pillows with an elaborate gold leaf design. He kicked off his shoes and hopped onto it, enjoying the way the sheets dipped under his weight. It was all very grand and majestic, but also very sparse. The bookcase and armoire were bare, almost as if the room was waiting for him to settle in.

Brendan eventually set his gaze on his backpack, reaching down to retrieve it. He made the mistake of opening the zipper, and clothes spilled out all over the carpeted floor. He laughed, thinking he might have gone overboard, especially with the hindsight of a TARDIS wardrobe hidden somewhere on the ship. He made a note to ask Rose about it later.

Eventually, he sought out the object of his desires, buried right at the bottom of his bag. Brendan smoothed out the paper, grinning at the A Level grades printed on them. He still didn't quite understand how it was possible to get grades for exams he'd never had the opportunity to take, but the gratitude he had towards Harold Saxon for opening so many doors for him made him want to blush. He should've been angry at himself for acting like a little girl with a crush, but he couldn't help but grin bashfully.

Brendan flopped onto the pillows, staring up at the support beams as his eyes drifted closed, his hand tapping a rhythm of four against his thigh as his thoughts were occupied by the handsome politician.

* * *

It was the swift knocking on his door that roused Brendan from his sleep, which was the moment he realised he'd taken an impromptu nap. Rubbing a hand over his face in an attempt to dispel the sleepy haze, he trudged over to the door and pulled it open.

Mickey had his arms crossed, a concerned expression splashed across his features. "You okay?"

Brendan furrowed his brows. "Yeah, why?"

"You've been in here for a long time," Mickey explained. "Eight hours, according to the Doctor."

"Oh," Brendan said sleepily, rubbing at his eyes like a little kid. "Sorry, I fell asleep."

"I can see why," Mickey whistled appreciatively when he poked his head through the door. "You've got a nice place here."

"I think it's a bit posh, but thanks. It's nice," Brendan said gratefully.

"I wouldn't complain," Mickey advised.

"What's your room like?" Brendan enquired curiously.

Mickey shrugged. "Average."

"Sounds like it suits you," Brendan bantered. Mickey broke into a grin and playfully shoved him.

"You coming to breakfast or what?"

Brendan looked down to check he wasn't just in boxers this time around; thankfully, he was still dressed, so he shrugged and said, "Sure."

He was led through the labyrinthine corridors with uncertainty. Mickey kept pausing every-so-often to get his bearings, before striding forward again. "Harder than it looks," he said when he caught Brendan's sly smile.

"Course it is," he said teasingly. "How come Rose didn't just get me?"

"She thought it'd be good for us to get our bearings," Mickey explained, and Brendan supposed that was a fair explanation. It took another five or so minutes, but the duo eventually stepped into a grand kitchen filled with more appliances than he'd ever seen in his life. He spent a moment roaming through the different kitchenware, before his gaze landed on the kitchen table, where Rose was sat with a big grin and an even bigger plate of pancakes.

His stomach rumbled treacherously.

"Hungry?" Rose teased.

"Just a bit," Brendan said sheepishly. "I'm always starving after I wake up. It's really annoying."

"Well, that's why we have breakfast." Rose patted the chair beside her elaborately. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," Brendan said gratefully, dropping into a chair by Rose's side and helping himself to the stack of pancakes. "Sorry if I kept you guys up."

"Nah, you did us a favour," Rose said. "I was tired and all. It'd been a busy day."

Brendan frowned momentarily, before the answer hit him. "Oh, yeah. Time machine."

"Time machine," Rose said giddily.

"Time machine," Mickey repeated with a grumble.

"Don't be like that," Rose chided. "It's great."

"It's a bloody headache, is what it is," Mickey retorted.

"Oh, shut up," Rose rolled her eyes.

"Brings up a point, though," Brendan said between a mouthful of warm, syrupy pancakes. "Doesn't time get confusing in here?"

" _Yes_ ," Mickey spoke up immediately. Rose shrugged at a more sedate pace.

"You get used to it," she said simply. "Time's different here. We don't really have night and day. But it's not really confusing. It's… nice. Does that make sense?"

"Not really," Brendan announced belligerently, biting into a pancake.

Rose grinned. "No worries. Like I said, you'll get used to it."

Brendan considered that. Would he stick around long enough to get used to it? He honestly didn't know.

"Fair play to you, you got a sweet room out of this," Mickey grumbled around a mouthful of pancakes.

Rose leaned on her hand, a teasing grin growing on her face. "You jealous, Mickey?"

"No," Mickey said unconvincingly. "I'm just saying, And it was hard to find our way back."

"That's the TARDIS for you," Rose hummed. "Bigger on the inside."

Brendan was halfway through pouring syrup onto his pancakes when a thought struck him. "You never actually finished telling me that story."

Rose frowned at him. "Which story?"

"Of how you came to the TARDIS," Brendan elaborated. "How'd you start all this?"

"Oh. He blew up my job," Rose said nonchalantly, clearly searching his gaze for a reaction, but Brendan could only shrug.

"He blew up my school, remember?" he reminded her.

"Yeah, I genuinely think that's just how he communicates," Rose chuckled fondly. "Oh, but I love it. The travelling. It's hard, sometimes, but I love it."

"Hard?"

"You saw what we go up against," Rose said sombrely. "The thing is… life with the Doctor – it's make or break. There's all these situations all the time, and you have to be able to hack it."

"Oh yeah, that sounds great, Rose," Mickey grumbled sourly. "I love life and death situations."

"You wanted this," Rose said with mocking fondness. "Get used to it."

Mickey grumbled, but he didn't otherwise protest to her point. Brendan smiled when Rose shot a fond eye roll in his direction, quietly soaking in the atmosphere.

Pancakes at his disposal, and a seemingly infinite ship to explore… He could get used to this.

* * *

"And _there_!" the Doctor declared, pulling down a lever with particular flourish. The TARDIS juddered slightly, but not enough for Brendan to reach for something sturdy to latch onto.

"Oh," Rose said, strangely disappointed. "Is that it? Not as _bumpy_ as usual."

The Doctor patted the nearest lever. "Set the controls on random."

"So you dunno where we are?" Mickey gasped.

"Nope!" the Doctor cried cheerily. "Isn't that fun? I haven't used this setting in _years_. Wonder why I stopped?"

"So what's out there?" Rose asked eagerly.

"I dunno."

Rose arched a brow. "Seriously?"

"It's called 'random' for a reason!" the Doctor said defensively.

"Oh, well, not much change from the usual, then," Rose laughed.

"Oi!" the Doctor cried indignantly, but he couldn't hide his grin. It was clear for all to see that he was excited by the prospect of the unknown, but Brendan was more cautious.

"So, we could be anywhere?" he said warily. "And you don't know?"

"Much more fun that way," the Doctor said amiably. "Come on!"

"But…" Brendan glanced at the doors. "Anything could be out there."

"I know," the Doctor said slowly. "That's why we're going out there."

"What if we walk into the middle of war?" Brendan said abruptly before the other three could take another step. He shrank back slightly when they all shot incredulous stares at him. "A great big intergalactic war?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," the Doctor said nonchalantly.

"We could get shot as soon as we step out," Brendan pointed out.

The Doctor winced. "Ooh, that only happened the once. I think. And look at me, I'm still standing!" He made a visible show of reconsidering. "Mostly."

Brendan's eyes boggled. He looked between the Doctor and Rose, who seemed unperturbed by his wild stories.

"He's just making it up," she assured him. "… Probably."

" _Great_ ," Brendan muttered lowly.

"You're not scared, are ya?" Rose stepped closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, grinning broadly at him. "Come on, Brendan, you saw the Sycorax and Krillitanes!" she said grandly.

"Yeah, that's basically why I don't wanna step out and die," Brendan said grumpily, holding up the hand that the Krillitane had slashed three days ago. It had stopped bleeding, and the pain had basically numbed, but the scar was still visible.

The Doctor impatiently stepped forward and grabbed Brendan's hand. "If it makes you feel better, I'll step out with you. Come on!" He dragged Brendan along, practically bounding towards the door with such enthusiasm that Brendan didn't have the heart to tell him he'd have preferred to step out with Rose and Mickey. He looked helplessly to his fellow council residents, but they just shook their heads and laughed.

The group piled by the TARIDS entrance. The Doctor gently opened the door and stepped out, guiding Brendan into unknown territory.

"Wow," Brendan said, his voice barely above a whisper as his eyes roved around the new area. They were in a cramped, metal room, dotted with contraptions and trailing bits of wires. He craned his neck to study the curved ceiling, noting how high up it was. "Wow," he squeaked again, because his brain still hadn't fully registered the fact that he really was in a different region to his London estate.

"It's a spaceship," Mickey articulated more easily, sounding giddy at the prospect. He bounded over to Brendan and nudged him excitedly. "Spaceship on our first go – how cool is that?"

"Let you know in a minute," Brendan said dazedly, still trying to adjust to the insurmountable evidence that he actually had been transported to a spaceship.

"Looks kind of abandoned," Rose said thoughtfully. "Anyone on board?"

"Nah, nothing here. Well, nothing dangerous. Well, not that dangerous…" the Doctor trailed off, and Brendan tore his gaze from the ceiling just in time to see the man squint thoughtfully. "You know what, I'll just have a quick scan, in case there's anything dangerous."

The Doctor padded over to deskbound equipment that looked suspiciously like a computer terminal, and Brendan was yanked along so suddenly he momentarily forgot they were still holding hands. "Doctor?" he said, a little uncertainly.

"Yup?" the Doctor hummed distantly, poking at a dusty control panel.

"You can... let go now." Brendan managed a tight smile when the Doctor turned to him in surprise, and then looked down at their joined hands with a visible degree of confusion. Gently, Brendan prised his hand away, shuffling nervously under the awkward circumstances.

Thankfully, Rose trotted over and leaned into his side to look at the Doctor. "So, what's the date? How far we gone?"

The Doctor snapped to attention at that, focusing his attention on the computer bank. Brendan shot Rose a grateful smile, and she patted his head with an amused grin.

"About three thousand years into your future, give or take," the Doctor announced loudly. He must have done something to the computer bank, because there was a piercing whine and the sound of grating metal. "Fifty-first century. The Diagmar Cluster! You guys are a long way from home! Two and a half galaxies."

Brendan followed their gazes, and stopped short, suddenly breathless. The metal ceiling had retracted to reveal an impressive cluster of stars and nebulas. The ship had been impressive enough, but this practically short-circuited his brain.

"Alright?" the Doctor said beside him, amusement laced in his tone.

"Yeah." Brendan coughed to hide the quiver in his voice. He could faintly hear Rose and Mickey saying something, but was too transfixed by the star show to listen in. "When you said you could go everywhere and anywhere, you weren't kidding."

"No, I wasn't," the Doctor agreed, but he also sounded distracted. "Dear me, had some cowboys in here. Been a ton of repair work going on," he said disapprovingly, and Brendan finally tore his gaze away to find the alien rummaging around the equipment. Casting one last look at the Diagmar Cluster, he wandered over to the Doctor.

"What is all this stuff?" Brendan asked, casting a curious eye along the various devices spread across the work desk.

"Oh, just shiply bits and bobs," the Doctor said, somewhat dismissively. "Tell you what's odd, though. Look at that!" He leaned towards a computer screen, displaying a simulation of what Brendan assumed to be the ship. "All the warp engines are going. Full capacity! There's enough power running through this ship to punch a hole in the universe. And we're not moving. So where's all that power going?"

Brendan exchanged a puzzled look with Mickey, casting a glance around the room. Something just didn't sit right with him. Sweeping the area once more, it suddenly clicked. "It's empty," he realised. "Who's maintaining that power?"

"Yeah, where'd all the crew go?" Rose said in agreement.

"Good questions!" the Doctor praised, reaching for a bleeping piece of machinery. "No life readings on board."

"Well, we're in deep space, they didn't just nip out for a quick fag," Rose said lightly.

"Nope, I've checked all the smoking pods," the Doctor said seriously. Brendan caught Rose's gaze, and they shared a disbelieving huff of laughter. "Can you smell that?"

"Yeah, someone's cooking," Rose said. Brendan sniffed the air, and caught a whiff of something delicious.

"Sunday roast, definitely," Mickey said eagerly.

"Probably topped with super-freaky alien gravy," Brendan said warily. There was a deep, mechanical whir and the group spun around in unison to see a wall panel slide away. Curiously, the other three stepped towards the opening, and Brendan followed them. The new room was almost identical to the rest of the ship, all metal and hydraulics, but what took Brendan off-guard was the crackling fireplace in the back of the room.

"Now, there's something you don't see in your average spaceship," the Doctor mused, confirming Brendan's suspicions that this was not commonplace. They stepped into the room, crossing to the mysterious fireplace. "Eighteenth Century. French. Nice mantel," the Doctor complimented as he scanned the strange addition.

Brendan tentatively touched the golden clock on the mantelpiece, struck by its ornate beauty. "Is it real?"

"Well, it's not a hologram." The Doctor leaned against it, peering at the underside. "Not even a reproduction. This actually is an eighteenth century French fireplace. There's another room through there."

"So, what, the aliens are antique dealers?" Brendan couldn't help but picture a wizened old lady trying to sell her wares.

"Can't be," Rose said, peering out a window. "That's the outer hull of a ship. Look."

"Hello!" the Doctor said brightly, staring at something through the fireplace. Brendan bent down next to him, curious, and was struck by the appearance of a little blonde girl.

"Hello?" the girl replied politely.

"What's your name?" the Doctor said gently.

"Reinette."

"Reinette? That's a lovely name," the Doctor complimented. "Can you tell me where you are, at the moment, Reinette?"

"In my bedroom," Reinette said simply.

"And where's your bedroom? Where d'you live, Reinette?"

"You can't ask a little kid that," Brendan hissed, somewhat protectively.

"It's quite alright, monsieur," Reinette assuaged. "I live in Paris, of course."

"Paris! Right," the Doctor spoke like a man who'd simply lost his bearings.

"Monsieur," Reinette started cautiously. "What are you doing in my fireplace?"

"Oh, just a routine… fire check," the Doctor explained lamely. Brendan rolled his eyes. He couldn't have come up with a better excuse himself, but that didn't stop his second-hand embarrassment. "Can you tell me what year it is?"

"Of course I can!" Reinette beamed proudly. "Seventeen hundred and twenty-seven."

"Right, lovely. One of my favourites," the Doctor said earnestly. "August is a bit rubbish, though – stay indoors. Okay, that's all for now! Thanks for your help. Hope you enjoy the rest of the fire. Night, night."

"Goodnight, monsieur," Reinette said, somewhat hesitantly. The Doctor pounced back up, and Brendan slowly rose after him, shooting the little girl a small smile before doing so.

"You said this was the fifty-first century!" Mickey said accusingly.

"I also said this ship was generating enough power to punch a hole in the universe," the Doctor retorted smartly. "I think we just found the hole. Must be a spatio-temporal hyperlink."

"What's that?" Mickey queried.

"No idea," the Doctor said blithely. "Just made it up. Didn't want to say magic door."

"Obviously," Brendan said dryly, but even he was unable to smother an amused chuckle.

"And on the other side of the ' _magic door_.'" Rose said majestically, lowering her tone in comical exaggeration, "is France in 1727?"

"So long as it's not Cardiff," Brendan murmured.

"What have you go against Cardiff?" the Doctor looked almost offended. "It's a great place."

"Bad school trip," Brendan said evasively.

"What, you get school trips to Cardiff?" Mickey spoke up, looking irate. "I never got that."

"Hello, can we get back to the important stuff?" Rose snapped, and Brendan shrank back sheepishly.

"Well, she was speaking French," the Doctor said so casually that Brendan didn't fully register it at first. "Right period French, too."

"She was speaking English, I heard her," Mickey spoke up the exact moment Brendan clocked onto the baffling statement.

"That's the TARDIS. Translates for ya," Rose explained cheerily, hooking an arm around Mickey's shoulder.

"Amazing," Brendan murmured, turning his attention to the mantelpiece. He tentatively brushed his fingers against the intricate clockwork mechanism, blown away by its vintage authenticity. It certainly beat his stuffy old school by a country mile. The clock might have even looked dazzling in its prime, but the glass had been shattered and fragmented.

"Gotcha!" the Doctor cried out, and suddenly the fireplace was moving beneath Brendan's touch. In his burst of panic, he clung on, unsure of what to do with himself. Rose cried out his name, but when he turned around, he was momentarily speechless to find a lavish child's bedroom sprawled before him.

He couldn't help but swear in Italian.

"Language," the Doctor hissed as the fireplace finally came to a stop. "What are you doing here?"

"It was an accident," Brendan said defensively, even though he hadn't actually done anything wrong. "You didn't exactly give me fair warning." He looked around nervously, spying Reinette tucked up in an absolutely massive bed. "This is so messed up. We shouldn't be in here! Allons-y!"

The Doctor quirked a quizzical brow.

"It's French for 'let's go,'" Brendan explained sheepishly. "Only thing I remember from Year 8 French. Sounds so stupid it stuck in my head."

"Really? I quite like it," the Doctor hummed thoughtfully, striding over to a set of heavy curtains and pulling them aside. After a moment's hesitation, Brendan joined him and sucked in a sharp breath at the breathless view.

"Wow," he mumbled.

"What?" the Doctor asked just as quietly.

"Look at it." Brendan's awestruck gaze roamed the wintry palace, soaking in the collection of huts and the impressive cathedral in the distance, and marvelling at the way the snow-capped buildings seemed to glint in the pinkish amber of the morning sunrise. It was a far cry from the desolate spaceship they'd stumbled upon. "It's amazing."

The Doctor followed his gaze, and his lips curved into a small smile. "I suppose it is."

"This really is what every day's like for you? Go wherever you want, whenever you want?" He belatedly realised he was starting to repeat himself and averted his gaze bashfully. "Sorry for sounding like a broken record."

"It is impressive though, isn't it?" the Doctor's eyes twinkled. "Glad you came along?"

Before Brendan could respond, there was a muted gasp from behind them. He spun around to see Reinette sat up straight in her bed, staring right at them. He wondered what was going through her head, seeing two shadowy figures in her bedroom at the dead of night, and all his reservations about _why_ they shouldn't have been in the room came surging back.

"It's okay! Don't scream!" the Doctor said rapidly, hurriedly moving across the room. "It's me. It's the fireplace man, look!" There was the familiar whir of the Doctor's sonic screwdriver and suddenly the room was a little brighter. "And that's Brendan. He was with me, d'you remember?"

Reinette turned to him curiously, and Brendan offered her an awkward smile. "Sorry to barge in like this," he said apologetically.

"We were talking, just a moment ago," the Doctor reminded her nonchalantly, tossing his head back. "I was in your fireplace."

"Monsieur, that was weeks ago," Reinette informed him. "That was _months_."

Brendan looked to the Doctor in askance, startled by the revelation. "No, that was two _minutes_ ago. Wasn't it?"

The Doctor moved back to the fireplace with a thoughtful frown. "Must be a loose connection," he surmised, holding an ear to the wood and tapping it experimentally. "Need to get a man in," he threw over his shoulder.

"Intergalactic fireplace repairs?" Brendan smirked at the thought, but his good-natured humour quickly dissipated when the Doctor straightened in alarm. "Doctor? You okay?"

"Who are you?" Reinette questioned obliviously. "And what are you doing here?"

"Okay, that's scary," the Doctor murmured.

"What's wrong?" Brendan asked, feeling goose bumps prickle his skin.

"The clock."

"What about it?"

"It's broken. _Oh_ , that is not good."

"You're scared of a broken clock?" Reinette said derisively, turning to Brendan with narrowed eyes. Brendan could only shrug haplessly in return.

"Just a bit scared, yeah," the Doctor responded tightly. "Just a little, tiny bit. Cos you see, if this clock's broken, and it's the only clock in the room..." he turned to them gravely, "then what's that?"

And Brendan finally heard it – the thudding tick of a clock. He desperately scoured the room, searching for something the Doctor must have missed, but the observation had been correct – the clock on the mantelpiece was the only one in the room.

"Cos, you see, that's not a clock," the Doctor continued, padding over to them. "You can tell by the resonance. Too big… six feet, I'd say. Size of a man."

"But there's no one here." Brendan did another quick survey of the room. "Nobody's hiding behind the curtain."

"Who needs curtains?" the Doctor refuted. "If you were a thing that ticked and you were hiding in someone's bedroom, first thing you do – break the clock. No one notices the sound of one clock ticking, but two? You might start to wonder if you're really alone."

"Then _where is it_?"

The Doctor's gaze landed on Reinette, and then drifted downwards to her bed. Brendan watched as he slowly edged closer, crouching by the side.

"Stay on the bed. Right in the middle. Don't put your hands or feet over the edge!" the Doctor ordered. Reinette's eyes widened in terror, and she looked to Brendan, who felt his heart sink. If Reinette stayed on the bed, she was a literal sitting target.

"Quick," he urged, outstretching a hand. "Over the headboard." Reinette did as she was told, lunging over the middle of her bed and desperately clinging to Brendan's hand. "It's okay. It's just a nightmare. You'll wake up soon," He said unconvincingly, wishing he could have been brave for her, but he was anxious about what was lurking under the bed, and the dull pain of the Krillitane's slash wound was flaring up.

The Doctor looked at him enquiringly, and with Brendan's confirming nod, stooped lower to peer under the bed. Brendan listened to the whir of the activated sonic screwdriver with bated breath, startling back when the Doctor suddenly lurched away from the bed and collapsed in a heap.

"Doctor?" Brendan made to help him, but was distracted by Reinette's terrified cry. He whipped his head around, freezing at the sight of an unfamiliar figure staring right at him. It was dressed in rich, traditional French garb, and might have even been a man, but Brendan was unable to discern any defining features because of its unnerving marionette face-mask.

"Don't look at it, Reinette," the Doctor said, having recovered and moved in front of Brendan and the girl, obstructing the figure's path.

"I think it's a bit late for that," Brendan said stiltedly, listening to Reinette's ragged breathing. He gulped around the lump in his throat. "What is it?"

"I don't know."

"Well, what does it want? Why's it hiding out in a little girl's room?"

"I don't –" the Doctor faltered, looking down at Reinette with a frown. "Hold still, let me look." He crouched in front of her and pressed his hands to her temple. Brendan alternated between looking down at them and keeping his gaze fixed on the figure for any sudden movements. "You've been scanning her brain!" the Doctor cried out.

"What?" Brendan said in alarm.

"What, you've crossed two galaxies and thousands of years just to scan a child's brain?" the Doctor continued angrily. "What could there be in a little girl's mind worth blowing a hole in the Universe?"

"I don't understand. It wants me?" Reinette spoke up timidly, squeezing Brendan's hand a little tighter. "You want _me_?"

The figure tilted its head to regard her, and there was a slight whir. "Not yet. You are incomplete," it explained in a robotic drawl.

"Incomplete?" the Doctor repeated indignantly. "What's that mean, _incomplete_?"

The figure remained silent, still staring blankly at Reinette.

"You can answer her, you can answer me." The Doctor once again placed himself between them and the figure, raising the sonic screwdriver threateningly. "What do you mean, incomplete?!"

The figure advanced towards them menacingly, halting just in front of the Doctor with an outstretched arm. Brendan flinched back when a blade slid out and pressed itself to the Doctor's throat.

"Monsieur, be careful!" Reinette cried worriedly.

"It's just a nightmare, Reinette, don't worry about it," the Doctor assured her with admirable calmness. "Everyone has nightmares." He hopped backwards, luring the figure away from Brendan and Reinette as it tried to swipe at him. "Even monsters from under the bed have nightmares. Don't you, monster?"

The figure sliced its blade downwards, but the Doctor ducked to the right. He looked to Brendan with a smug grin, and Brendan quickly realised from the way the assailant thrashed wildly that it had gotten caught on the fireplace.

"Come on," the Doctor said, and Brendan quickly hurried over to the fireplace.

"We going back?" he asked hopefully.

The Doctor nodded. "Yes. Hold on." Brendan did as he was told, grasping onto the fireplace unsurely.

"What do monsters have nightmares about?" Reinette asked, still stood in the middle of her bedroom. Brendan felt a flash of guilt for leaving her so quickly.

"Me! Ha!" the Doctor declared confidently, just as the fireplace started rotating once again. The extravagant French bedroom swiftly disappeared, and was replaced with the familiar metal hull of the ship.

"Doctor!" Rose called out in surprise.

"Out of the way!" the Doctor ordered. Brendan looked down at the slim, metal object he'd somehow acquired, his eyes widening in surprise, and he quickly stumbled away from the flailing figure to stand beside his two friends. He was barely out of the way before the Doctor started firing, spraying the figure head-on with cold vapour. It jerked spasmodically, and then seized up completely.

"Excellent!" Mickey said excitedly. "Ice gun!"

The Doctor spun around and hurled the weapon at Rose, who caught it with steady hands. "Fire extinguisher," he corrected.

"Nice catch," Brendan said to Rose offhandedly.

"Thanks." Rose nudged him with the butt of the fire extinguisher. "Loads of practice." She turned back to the Doctor. "Where did that thing come from?"

"Here," the Doctor explained.

"So why's it dressed like that?" Mickey mused.

"Field trip to France. Some kind of basic camouflage protocol," the Doctor said as he strode closer towards it. "Nice needlework. Shame about the face."

"Should you be getting that close?" Brendan said warily. "What if it attacks again?"

" _Nah_ , I seized up the joints," the Doctor said dismissively, reaching over to tear the mask off.

Brendan's eyes widened at the sight of the creature's internal clockwork mechanisms, ticking away inside its translucent dome of a head. It wasn't as bad as alien bats, but it was still pretty weird; nevertheless, he leaned forward, intrigued.

"Oh, you are _beautiful_!" the Doctor cooed in a way that reminded Brendan of when he ogled over K9. "No, really, you are. You're gorgeous! Look at that. Space age clockwork, I love it. I've got chills!" He continued marvelling over it with zest. Brendan turned to Rose and Mickey, to gauge their reactions and determine whether this was normal or not, and was met with a giddy grin and a confused shrug respectively. "Listen, seriously, I mean this from the heart – and, by the way, count those – it would be a crime – it would be an act of _vandalism_ – to disassemble you. But that won't stop me."

With steely resolve, the Doctor lifted the sonic screwdriver, but before he could do anything, the clockwork figure disappeared in a flash of light.

"Where did it go?" Brendan yelped.

"Short-range teleport," the Doctor responded, tucking the screwdriver back into his breast pocket. "Can't have got far. Could still be on board."

"What is it?" Rose managed to ask as the Doctor hurried to the fireplace.

" _Don't_ go looking for it." He jabbed a warning finger in their direction.

"Where are you going?"

"Back in a sec," the Doctor said evasively, activating the fireplace and disappearing to the other side once again. There was a bout of awkward silence as the remaining trio stood around, confused and uncertain.

"So, what's behind there?" Mickey said, striking up a conversation. "What'd you see?"

"France, 1727." Brendan said easily, smirking at the way Mickey's eyes boggled.

"So that was all true, then?"

"What d'you reckon?" Rose suddenly said aloud. Brendan poked his head around Mickey to look at her, frowning at the way she hefted the fire extinguisher.

"He said not to look for it," Mickey said warily, apparently reaching the same conclusion as Brendan.

"Yeah, he did." Rose stared at Mickey expectantly, and Brendan watched as his reservations quickly crumbled and he grabbed the second fire extinguisher.

"Now you're getting it!" Rose grinned, turning to Brendan with raised eyebrows. "Coming?"

"Like I would miss out on exploring my first spaceship," Brendan scoffed.

"I dunno, looks more like a space station to me," Rose said with faux-thoughtfulness. "Fifty-first century architecture, updated equipment, revolving magic doors... yeah, definitely space station."

"Are you trying to show off?"

"Absolutely."

"Whatever, tour guide." Brendan fondly rolled his eyes. "Lead on."

* * *

The spaceship – or space _station_ if Rose was to be believed – was surprisingly dull once the novelty of the sleek corridors faded. Everything was appropriately silver and safe, and the clockwork creature was nowhere in sight. Mickey ploughed on ahead, enthusiastically waving his fire extinguisher about like a hefty gun.

"Don't go too far," Rose called out. Mickey simply shot her a grin and continued to barrel ahead. "Honestly, he never listens."

Brendan laughed. "You sound like a mum."

"Me?" Rose cringed at the mere thought. "As if."

"Dunno, I reckon you'd make a good mum," Brendan said thoughtfully.

"Oh. Thanks."

"I mean, you look old enough."

Rose nudged him with the butt of the fire extinguisher again, her tongue poking between her teeth as she grinned at him. "Shut up!"

Brendan shook his head in amusement as they continued roaming around the spaceship, his distracted thoughts quickly turning back to something the Doctor had said offhandedly. "Rose?"

Rose stopped examining her makeshift gun to look at him. "Yeah?"

"What did the Doctor mean when he told the robot to count his heart?"

"Oh, he's got two of 'em," Rose said casually.

Brendan screeched to a halt. "What?"

"He's got two hearts."

Brendan scoffed. "Shut up."

"It's true!" Rose said indignantly.

Brendan looked at her carefully. "Swear down?"

"Honest," she promised him. "He's got two hearts."

"How? Was it surgery?" Brendan regarded her again. "Do _you_ have two hearts?"

Rose burst out laughing. "Nah, I think he was just born with it."

Brendan was silent for a moment, struggling to process the new information. "Wow."

"Oi, what's the holdup?" Mickey cried, finally realising that his two companions had lagged behind.

"Coming!" Rose yelled back, before turning back to Brendan. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just a little… _two hearts_ ," he breathed. "I know he's an alien and everything, but think of that blood sugar."

"Ha!" Rose exclaimed.

"That smell's getting stronger, you know," Mickey called out from further ahead. "This way!" He disappeared around a corner. Filing away Rose's explanation for future processing, Brendan hurried after him, rounding the corner in time to see Mickey jump away from something long and metal with a yelp.

"You okay?" Brendan called out, keeping his distance while Rose advanced closer. They were both more equipped to deal with anything that jumped out at them.

"Look at this," he beckoned quietly. Brendan joined them, halting only when he realised the metal object was a unique-looking camera, with an eyeball in the centre. "That's an eye in there," Mickey breathed. "That's a _real_ eye."

The group could only stare in morbid fascination as the eye retracted back into its socket. "That's… messed up," Brendan managed to say. Rose suddenly hissed, and he looked down to see her open a hatch in the wall. He crouched down, and all three crowded around the sweltering opening.

"What is that? What's that in the middle there?" Mickey asked, nodding at a pulsing organ beating in the centre of the opening. "It looks like it's wired in."

Brendan stared at it closely, and abruptly realised what the organ was. He looked away with a start, suddenly feeling very ill.

"It's a heart, Mickey," Rose said shakily, confirming Brendan's suspicions. "It's a _human_ heart."

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Brendan said gravely, unable to bear the horrible pumping heartbeat, which seemed to be amplified now that he knew what it was. "What kind of freakshow place is this?"

"I… I dunno," Rose said eventually, looking a little green herself. Before she could say anything else, there was a crash from further down the ship, startling them all. Rose slammed the hatch shut and raised her weapon, with Mickey following her example a moment later.

Exchanging a knowing glance, all three carefully crept down the corridor. Brendan's heart thudded in his chest as he listened with bated breath, waiting for something to inevitably jump out of the darkness. It wasn't until they'd turned another corner that he allowed himself to breathe.

"Guess we're in the clear," Mickey decided, lowering his weapon. Rose was a little more cautious, but eventually she relaxed her grip as well.

"I definitely heard something," Brendan muttered. "How do we know that thing isn't just boxing us in?"

"We'll find it," Rose assured him.

"And then what?"

"I'll figure it out when I see it. Come on."

Equally envious and grateful for Rose's confidence, Brendan followed her into another corridor, with Mickey at the helm.

"Maybe it wasn't a real heart," Mickey commented offhandedly.

"'Course it was a real heart," Rose said exasperatedly.

"Is this, like, normal for you?" Mickey enquired, glancing around carefully. "Is this an average day?"

"Life with the Doctor, Mickey," Rose said airily. "No more average days."

They drew to a stop beside a set of surprisingly mundane-looking windows. Brendan glanced at Mickey smugly. "I bet you looked at the sheep's heart everyone always has to dissect in Biology and thought, 'maybe this ain't a real heart!'"

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Mickey grinned, playfully elbowing Brendan in the ribs. "Don't think I didn't hear about what _you_ did during those classes when you realised what the smell was."

Brendan shuddered at the dreadful memory. "I knew Nathan would snake and tell everyone."

"Eyes on the prize, boys," Rose interrupted sharply. Brendan and Mickey immediately stood to attention, like chastised children. "I think we're looking through a mirror."

Mickey peered closer at the glass. "It's France again!" he exclaimed. "I can see France!"

Brendan studied the expensively rustic room curiously, jerking back in surprise when the doors flew open and a lavishly dressed man sauntered in with two men at his heels. "It's like Downton Abbey," he commented, watching as the snooty man barked orders at his two followers.

"I know what you mean. Look at this guy," Mickey scoffed. "Who does he think he is?"

"The king of France," the Doctor commented nonchalantly, approaching them with his hands stuffed into his pockets.

Brendan tilted his head, watching the King preen himself in the mirror. He was handsome, in a snooty, sophisticated way. Someone Brendan would secretly admire from afar, but probably hate the guts of if he tried to befriend them. "I thought England was the only country with a monarchy?"

"No, plenty of places have them," the Doctor explained patiently. "Bahrain, Cambodia, Luxembourg – France too, at one point, before it was abolished in the 1790s."

"Oh, never mind the history lesson," Rose cooed amusedly. "What've you been up to?"

"Oh, this and that," the Doctor deflected. "Became the imaginary friend of a future French aristocrat, picked a fight with a clockwork man…" A loud neigh interrupted his casual list, and Brendan spun around to stare wide-eyed at the white horse breathing into his hair. "Oh, and I met a horse," the Doctor added as an afterthought.

"What's a horse doing on a spaceship?" Mickey blustered.

"Mickey, what's pre-revolutionary France doing on a spaceship?" the Doctor said critically. "Get a little perspective."

Once they'd all managed to get past the presence of the anachronistic French horse, Brendan struggled to suppress a smile when Rose chortled at their friend's expense. "It's a fair question, if you extended it a bit," he said. "Why _are_ we seeing all this?"

"Now _that_ is a good question," the Doctor said, ignoring Mickey's outraged huff and tapping on the mirror. "See these? They're all over the place, on every deck. Gateways to history. But not just any old history. _Hers_."

He motioned at the regal blonde woman who'd appeared in the room on the other side. She curtsied with the poise and grace of a genteel.

"Time Windows," the Doctor continued, sucking in a breath. "Deliberately arranged along the life of one particular woman. A spaceship from the fifty-first century _stalking_ a woman from the eighteenth – why?"

"Who is she?" Rose said curiously, voicing the question preying on Brendan's mind.

"Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson, known to her friends as Reinette," the Doctor said in the manner of introduction.

"Reinette?" Brendan repeated faintly, leaning closer to the glass in an attempt to study the refined woman circling the King. "The little girl?"

"Yup."

"But she was a kid!" Brendan protested.

"Time Windows," the Doctor repeated casually, unbothered. "She's not a little kid anymore; in fact, she's one of the most accomplished women who have ever lived."

A small, proud smile graced Brendan's lips. "Good on her."

"So, she's got plans on being the Queen, then?" Rose asked curiously, watching the scene with rapt interest.

"No, he's already got a Queen," the Doctor refuted casually. "She's got plans on being his mistress."

"Oh, I get it," Rose scoffed, tossing her head back with an exaggerated grin. " _Camilla_."

Whether he got the reference or not, the Doctor simply kept his gaze focused on the Time Window while Brendan shared a knowing laugh with the other two. "I think this is the night they met. The night of the Yew Tree Ball. In no time flat, she'll get herself established as his official mistress, with her own rooms at the palace. Even her own title: _Madame de Pompadour_."

"Impressive," Brendan conceded. Beyond the Time Window, the King exchanged a few intimate words with Reinette before departing the chamber. Reinette stepped up to the mirror to check her appearance, a pleased smile on her face. It was mind boggling for him to consider her as the little girl he'd met less than an hour ago.

"The Queen must have loved her," Rose remarked slyly.

"Oh, she did," the Doctor interjected. "They got on very well."

"The King's wife and the King's girlfriend?" Mickey said incredulously.

"France," the Doctor shrugged. "It's a different planet."

"Now it really is starting to feel like Downton Abbey," Rose remarked dryly.

"You're telling me," Brendan agreed.

The moment of peaceful observation was suddenly shattered when Reinette sharply spun around. "How long have you been standing there?" she demanded, her voice muffled through the Time Window. "Show yourself!"

To Brendan's horror, a figure lurking in the corner of the room turned to face her, revealing itself to be another of the clockwork droids. The Doctor reacted with surprising agility, yanking Mickey's fire extinguisher and barrelling through the Time Window before the others could fully process the situation.

"Hello, Reinette, hasn't time flown?" the Doctor said cheerily, prompting Brendan to dart into the fray with the others.

"Fireplace man!" Reinette exclaimed in pure shock, cementing the inevitable fact that she really was the little girl all grown up. The Doctor fired another round of ice vapour at the sinister clockwork figure, causing it to seize up once again.

"What's it doing?" Mickey asked cautiously, deftly catching the extinguisher that was hastily thrown his way. The clockwork figure was creaking ominously, filling the tensely silent room with uncomfortable noise.

"Switching back on," the Doctor explained ominously. "Melting the ice."

"And then what?"

"Then it kills everyone in the room," the Doctor said grimly. The droid lurched forward suddenly, startling everyone back a few steps. "Focuses the mind, doesn't it?" the Doctor said lightly. "Who are you? Identify yourself!"

The creature ticked silently, its head tilted in an almost questioning, childlike way.

"Order it to answer me,"the Doctor sighed wearily, turning to Reinette.

"Why should it listen to me?" she demanded in perplexment.

"I dunno. It did when you were a child," the Doctor pointed out. "Let's see if you've still got it."

Reinette took a moment to steel herself. "Answer his question," she ordered with admirable authority. "Answer any and all questions put to you."

Slowly, reluctantly, the creature lowered its raised hand. " _I am Repair Droid Seven_ ," it intoned in a cold, robotic voice that sent a chill down Brendan's spine. Where K9 had sounded chipper and warm, this robot was the complete opposite.

"So what happened to the ship, then?" the Doctor demanded. "There was a lot of damage."

" _Ion storm_. _Eighty-two percent systems failure_ ," the robot explained in a jumble of words.

"That ship hasn't moved in over a year. What's taken you so long?"

" _We did not have the parts_ ," Repair Droid Seven said coolly.

Mickey scoffed. "Always comes down to that, doesn't it? The parts."

"Spoken like a true mechanic," Brendan murmured absently. Reinette sharply turned at the sound of his voice, her eyes widening in recognition. He nodded in awkward acknowledgement, surprised she'd even remembered him.

"What's happened to the crew? Where are they?" the Doctor continued his line of questioning.

" _We did not have the parts_."

"There should have been over fifty people on your ship. Where did they go?"

" _We did not have the parts_ ," the robot insisted monotonously.

"Fifty people don't just disappear," the Doctor snapped, edging closer in frustration. "Where –" He faltered suddenly, jutting his chin in understanding. " _Oh_. You didn't have the parts, so you used the crew."

"The crew?!" Mickey parroted.

"We found a camera with an eye in it," Rose spoke up, doing nothing to help Brendan's dawning horror, "and there was a heart wired into machinery."

"It's just doing what it's programmed to," the Doctor said sombrely. "Repairing the ship any way it can, with whatever it can find. No one told it the crew weren't on the menu. What did you say the flight deck smelled of?"

Rose took a long time to answer. "Someone cooking…" she murmured distantly.

"Flesh plus heat – _barbecue_ ," the Doctor drawled unhelpfully.

Brendan bit his lip, resisting the urge to dwell on the well of graphic imaginings that his mind concocted. A petite hand gripped his own, and he turned in surprise to the fearful Reinette, whose wide eyes and ragged breathing reminded him of the little girl he'd met not long ago. He gave her hand a light squeeze, offering her a weak smile.

"You've opened up Time Windows, that takes colossal energy," the Doctor gabbled on obliviously. "Why come here? You could've gone to your repair yard. Instead you come to eighteenth century France. Why?"

" _One more part is required_." The frozen animatronic turned its empty gaze on Reinette, whose eyes darted between it and the Doctor.

"Then why haven't you taken it?" the Doctor asked.

" _She is incomplete_."

The Doctor scrunched up his face in visible incomprehension. "What? So that's the plan then? You just keep opening up more and more Time Windows, scanning her brain, checking if she's done yet?"

"Why her?" Rose spoke up, shifting self-consciously when everyone turned in her direction. "If you've got all of history to choose from, why specifically her?"

" _We are the same_ ," the robot said chillingly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Brendan said aloud.

"We are not the same!" Reinette interjected, visibly offended. She moved away from Brendan, the poise and grace returning to her stature. "We are in no sense the same!"

Repair Droid Seven still had its gaze on Reinette. " _We are the same_ ," it insisted.

"Get out of here!" Reinette barked shrilly, fear clearly taking hold of her. "Get out of here this instant!"

"Reinette, no," the Doctor cried out a moment too late, watching as helplessly as everybody else when the droid disappeared in a flash of gold light. "It's back on the ship!" he bounced into action, rushing back to the open Time Window. "Rose, take these two and Arthur. Get after it. Follow it. Don't approach it, just watch what it does."

"Arthur?" Rose echoed bewilderedly.

"Good name for a horse."

"No, you're not keeping the horse," Rose sighed, once again sounding like an exasperated mother.

"I let you keep Mickey!" the Doctor retorted, but he furiously ushered them through the mirror and slammed it shut before Brendan could process how hilarious the statement was. He glanced around the cold, dingy hall for any robot sightings, once again struck by the abrupt change in environment.

"What's with this place?" Brendan grumbled as he followed Rose and Mickey down the corridor. "It's like something outta Twilight Zone."

"Half spaceship, half history channel," Mickey agreed.

"Occasionally body parts," Rose threw in. Brendan winced at the macabre humour, and the trio lapsed into a troubled silence.

"I reckon you've got competition, mate," Mickey spoke up, clearly trying to distract everybody from the house of horrors they were blindly navigating.

"In what?" Brendan asked bemusedly.

"Madame de Pompadour. I saw the way she looked at you."

Brendan furrowed his brow. "She didn't look at me weirdly."

"I dunno..." Mickey said airily. "And the way you held onto her hand, that was smooth."

"He's just winding you up," Rose assured him, seemingly catching onto Brendan's visible discomfort.

"Still, I'm right about the competition," Mickey continued blithely. "That Doctor, eh?"

Now it was Rose who looked bemused. "What're you talking about?"

" _Well_ , Madame de Pompadour, Sarah Jane Smith… Cleopatra!" he listed giddily, and it was finally clear what he was angling towards.

"Oh, Cleopatra!" Rose huffed, her voice rising in frustration. "He mentioned her _once_!"

"Yeah, but he called her Cleo," Mickey jested, unable to see the figure striding towards him.

"Mickey!" Rose screamed in warning. Mickey spun around, just as the droid reached out and grabbed him by the throat, pushing him backwards. Brendan desperately tried to pry the droid's vice grip off his friend when they were close enough, but the robot was unyielding, a set of razor sharp blades springing from its free hand.

Brendan cried out in horror, stumbling back into the limp Rose. He spun around, catching her terrified gaze as another droid wrapped an arm around her neck and remorselessly suffocated her. He willed himself to react to the situation, but he felt paralysed.

So when the droids rendered his friends unconscious, and grabbed him to do the same, Brendan felt nothing but immeasurable guilt for being so helpless.

* * *

" _They're going to chop us up, just like the crew! They're gonna chop us up and stick us all over this stupid spaceship. And where's the Doctor? Where's the precious Doctor now? He's been gone for flipping hours, that's where he is_!"

Admittedly, that wasn't the greatest rant for Brendan to wake up to. He groaned as the world slowly filtered into view, involuntarily flinching away from the impassive, robotic face peering back at him and smacking his head into something smooth and hard.

"Brendan," Mickey, who was clamped to some sort of mechanical bed, ogled him with terrified eyes. "Sending a kid down with you. That's a real class act, Rose. I hope you're proud of yourself. What's his parents gonna think? Didn't think of that, did you, Rose?"

Brendan barely listened to Mickey's frantic tirade, staring nervously at the intimidating creature towering over him.

" _You are compatible_ ," droned the repair droid.

"Well, you… you might want to think about that," Rose suggested shakily. "You might _really_ want to think about that, because... us lot, we didn't come here alone, oh no. And trust me, you wouldn't want to mess with our designated driver."

Brendan flinched when a droid advanced on him, withdrawing a sharp rotating blade from its fingers. His heart hammered in his chest as he desperately looked to Rose and Mickey for assistance, but they were both in the same predicament as him.

"Ever heard of the Daleks?" Rose gulped nervously. "Remember them? They had a name for our friend. They had myths about him, and a name. They called him the –"

Rose's shaken speech was disrupted by a series of obnoxiously loud clattering and even louder singing. Rose tried to continue her tirade, but she eventually gave up when – to Brendan's horror – the Doctor drunkenly staggered into the room, his tie wrapped over his hair and his appearance unkempt.

" _I could have spread my wings and done a thousand_ –" He swung around dramatically, before turning to face the group. Perplexingly, he was donning shades in the dark interior of the spaceship, and Brendan couldn't banish the unwanted mental image of his dad after a night out from his mind. "Have you met the French?" the Doctor questioned. " _My… God, they know how to party_!"

"Oh, look at what the cat dragged in," Rose groused disapprovingly. "The Oncoming Storm!"

"Ooh, you sound just like your mother!" the Doctor hummed.

"What have you been doing?" Rose demanded. "What have you been?!"

" _Well_ …" The Doctor smacked his lips together. "Among other things, I _think_ I just invented the Banana Daiquiri a couple of centuries early."

Brendan glanced over at Mickey, who looked just as stunned as he felt. Had he really thrown his life away for a drunken madman, like his mother had?

"D'you know, they'd never even seen a banana before?" the Doctor rambled on, sounding utterly scandalised. "Always bring a banana to a party, Rose. Bananas are good!"

"Not from where I'm standing," Brendan muttered.

"Oh, _brilliant_ , it's you! You're my favourite, you are! You are the best!" the Doctor cried laddishly, and Brendan briefly thought he was referring to him until he swaggered up to the droid eclipsing Rose. "Cos you're so _thick_! You're Mr Thick, Thick, Thicketty, Thick-face from Thick-town, Thickania. And so's your dad!"

If he wasn't in a life or death situation, Brendan might have laughed. In any case, he was just mildly relieved the Doctor hadn't come after him for being a banana hater.

"D'you know what they were scanning Reinette's brain for?" the Doctor giggled inanely. "Her _mileometer_. They wanted to know how old she is! Know why? Cos this ship is thirty-seven years old, and they think when Reinette is thirty-seven – when she's ' _complete_ ' then her brain will be compatible."

Brendan's throat tightened with fear and grief. "Are they gonna kill her?" he asked fearfully.

" _Nah_! It's like they said earlier – they don't have the parts." He swaggered around the room, pressing his face against various droids. "Cos that's what you're missing, isn't it, hmm?! Command circuit for your computer. Your ship needs a brain, and for some reason – God knows what – only the brain of Madame de Pompadour will do."

" _The brain is compatible_ ," the droid beside Rose – the same that had haunted Reinette, Brendan sharply recalled, responded mechanically.

" _Compatible_?" the Doctor scoffed, jumping over to the robot. "If you believe that, then you probably believe this is a glass of wine."

Brendan could only gawp uselessly as the Doctor swiftly pulled the droid's mask off and poured the contents of his glass into the mechanical clockwork. His eyes widened in amazement as the droid drooped harmlessly, as if it had suddenly run out of power.

"Multi-grade anti-oil," the Doctor declared without the hint of a drunken tremble. "If it moves, it doesn't."

Brendan flinched when the droid holding him captive advanced with the blade, but just as suddenly as the Doctor's first victim, it keeled over uselessly.

"What did you do?" Brendan gasped out, silently willing his heartbeat to steady out. "Seize up their joints or something?"

"In a manner of speaking," the Doctor agreed as he bounced over and zapped the clamps with the sonic, freeing Brendan from his makeshift prison, before he went over to do the same for Rose and Mickey. "Right, you three, that's enough lying about. Time we got the rest of the ship turned off."

"Those things safe?" Mickey asked as they converged around the central monitoring desk.

"Yup, safe," the Doctor confirmed cheerily, pushing his shades up to his unkempt hair. "Safe and thick – way I like them. Okay, all the Time Windows are controlled from here. Need to close them all down. Zeus plugs..." He patted his pockets urgently. "Where are my Zeus plugs? Had them a minute ago, I was using them as castanets!"

Once he'd finally caught up with the conversation, Brendan couldn't help but dubiously ask, "Multi-grade anti-oil?"

"Trust me, he's got all sorts of things like that lying about," Rose murmured as she scoured the terminal. "Why didn't they just open a Time Window to when she was thirty-seven?"

"With the amount of damage to these circuits, they did well to hit the right century. Trial and error after that," he explained, experimenting with the terminal switches. "The windows aren't closing. Why won't they close?"

As if in response, a discordant chime rang out across the hollow walls of the ship, drawing their attention. "What's that?" Rose asked shakily.

"I dunno," the Doctor admitted. "Incoming message?"

"From who?" Mickey spoke up.

"Report from the field," the Doctor deduced. "One of them must still be out there with Reinette. _That's_ why I can't close the windows, there's an override!"

He reached out to twist a dial. Brendan watched him intently, so consumed by the mere idea of one of the clockwork creatures still roaming about that he was completely blindsided when the figures in the room reared back up again. The closest pointed its fingers to the ground, ejecting a stream of crimson liquid, right onto the Doctor's shoes.

"Oh, that was a bit clever," the Doctor said grudgingly, pulling away from the puddle. There was the sound of grinding clockwork, and Brendan whirled around to find the remaining droids were also rising from their slumber, staring them down with cold, impassive eyes. "Right… many things about this are not good."

Brendan could have laughed at the cocksure statement, but his breath caught in his throat and he could only stare onwards with bated breath, waiting for the first strike. Another discordant chime jolted him from his stupor, and he jumped back in surprise.

"Message from one of your little friends?" the Doctor questioned, enviably cool and a tiny bit mocking. "Anything interesting?"

" _She is complete_ ," spoke the main droid. " _It begins_." Chillingly, all the droids clasped their hands together and disappeared in a blur of grainy white light.

"What's happening?" Rose demanded worriedly, her gaze furtive as she glanced around the room.

"One of them must have found the right Time Window," the Doctor surmised gravely. "Now it's time to send in the troops – and this time they're bringing back her head."

A cold silence washed over the room as Brendan digested what the man was telling him. "But… you can stop it?" he asked hopefully.

"If I can find the right Time Window, yes!" With a burst of energy, the Doctor flung himself at the terminal, typing away with such dizzying speed that Brendan quickly lost sight of whatever he was doing. "See, those robots are a tiny bit clever, but they're still desperate, and cutting corners to get the parts they need, so, if I'm lucky, they'll have left an energy trace when they beamed away…"

"And that'll lead you to her?" Rose queried.

"Like I said, if I'm lucky." The Doctor pulled the terminal's dashboard cleanly apart to reveal a mesh of wires. "But someone still needs to warn her. Mickey, come here."

"How?" Rose pestered, moving aside to let Mickey pass.

The Doctor held out the trailing mesh. "Untangle these and then pull them out, in order," he instructed, dumping the bundle in Mickey's arms before running a hand through his hair and zapping the terminal. "There'll be another Time Window somewhere that'll lead us to a point in time before the attack."

"And you can find it?" Brendan said doubtfully.

"Easily." The Doctor sounded nonchalant, but his eyes were wild and frayed. The buzzing of the sonic reached a crescendo, and he quickly studied it. "Got it! There's another Time Window leading to 1758, just five years before her thirty-seventh birthday. Down that way to the right –" He jerked the screwdriver down a flickering corridor. "Someone needs to go to her, warn her about what's going to happen."

"Can't you?" Brendan queried.

"I said untangle them one at a time," the Doctor snapped at a startled Mickey. "This equipment can't sustain long bursts. You keep doing that and you'll overload the whole thing. And I can't," he replied over his shoulder, jarring Brendan back to the conversation. "I need to find the Time Window they went through."

"I'll go," Rose volunteered before Brendan could speak up. "Down on the right, yeah? Anything more specific?"

"Do you really need anything else?" the Doctor barked.

"Yeah, as it happens," Rose argued back, "There's loads of those things out there, I don't wanna get lost."

The Doctor dropped a loop of cables, clearly frustrated, and started typing away on the dash. "There's a tapestry," he said angrily. "You'll know it when you see it. Go to her, tell her that when they show up, she needs to keep them talking long enough for me to get there. They're programmed to respond to her, so it'll buy us some time, but they can't be stopped completely. Now go, before it's too late!"

"Wait," Brendan quickly spoke up. "I'll go."

Rose turned to him, eyes wide with barely concealed surprise, and even a little _relief_. "You sure?"

"Yeah." Brendan nodded, wishing he could radiate the Doctor's effortless calmness. "Reinette saw ne as a kid, right? Maybe she'll still remember me."

"It's worth a shot," Rose quickly agreed. "Doctor?"

"Yes, fine," the Doctor said impatiently, buzzing the sonic against the terminal. "Just go!"

Brendan quickly hurried down the directed corridor, sparing the Doctor any other reasons to grow increasingly frustrated. The curved metallic walls felt particularly unyielding now that he was traversing them alone, and the continually flickering lights did him no favours.

He quickly stumbled across a large cloth detailing intricate illustrations draped from the ceiling. He gingerly brushed the antique piece of cloth aside, and slipped through into Reinette's time once again. It struck him how natural it was beginning to feel, slipping between the distant past and far future.

Ignoring the complicated revelation, he skulked down the lavish hallway, carefully peering into rooms in search of the aristocrat. He stepped into the final room at the far end of the hall, and found her at last. Her back was turned to him, but it was unmistakably Reinette.

For some reason, being in the same room as her caused him to seize up, his heart beating painfully in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. He didn't know what to tell her. He didn't even know why he was _there_.

Reinette spun around, her eyes widening the moment she laid eyes on him. "It's you," she gasped.

He attempted a smile, but it was weak and half-hearted. "Hi, Reinette."

She turned back to look at the clock on the mantle, before facing him again. "It has been many years since I saw you last," she recalled. "The night before the Yew Tree Ball, and further before then, as well."

"Yeah," Brendan agreed. "You were just a kid back then."

"And now I am older than you." Reinette strode over to him, her expression considerate as she pressed a gentle hand to his cheek. "You are just the same," she said in wonderment. "You remain unchanged, like him."

"It's a long story, and I don't think I have much time," Brendan said urgently. He studied her face in turn, taking note of how beautifully she'd aged, draped in glittering jewels and dressed in her expensive pink dress. It was still so difficult to reconcile her with the scared little girl he'd met mere moments ago. "Can I sit?"

Reinette nodded hesitantly, motioning towards a chair facing the fireplace. He thanked her, hurrying over and dropping into the chair before his shaky legs could give way.

"You seem troubled, Brendan," she noted. "What do you wish to speak of?"

Brendan took a steadying breath, quietly surprised that he'd made enough of an impression for Reinette to remember his name after so long. "You knew the night we met, there was that thing, that… creature. The clockwork man."

Reinette nodded carefully. "I recall my encounters vividly."

"Right." Brendan rubbed his palms against his jeans nervously. It was almost like he was in a mock interview, except the consequences were far more disastrous than failing a spoken English exam. "Except there's more of them. A whole group of them, and they're coming."

Reinette cast her eyes downwards, crestfallen but surprisingly resigned. "When?"

"Sometime after your thirty-seventh birthday, I think?"

She stared at him incredulously. "But that is in five years!"

"I know, I'm sorry," Brendan quickly backpedalled, quietly loathing the way he couldn't convey his message in any meaningful way. "They have some seriously advanced technology."

"What does that mean?! Who are they?"

"They're… things, I don't know," Brendan shrugged helplessly. "They're from this… this thing like a ship. Like Napoleon." Reinette stared at him blankly. Brendan winced at his non-explanation. "Yeah, I don't really know much 'bout him, either."

"You are babbling, Brendan," Reinette snapped, her eyes . "Your tensions are frayed."

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm just… I dunno how to explain it. I don't even know why I'm _here_!"

"Then be exact and I shall be attentive." Her tone was prim, but not entirely unyielding as she dropped into the chair opposite him. Her bluntness was comforting, in a way, and it prompted Brendan to stop and take a moment to collect his tumultuous thoughts.

His mind drifted to the Doctor, of how he relied on science for his rapid-fire explanations, and realised that he couldn't do that. He didn't have the Doctor's experience and aptitude, so he'd have to fall back on the things he did now.

"Okay…" He leaned forward, taking hold of her hands. Reinette looked surprised, but she didn't interrupt. "Imagine. Imagine a world that's very different to this one. The world of monsters and machines. And they have this vessel way up in the sky. All metal and alloys, shimmering in starlight. And it's beautiful, Reinette," he laughed breathlessly. "It really is, but there's so much _darkness_ baked into the walls of that place. There's all these things cobbled together – tapestries and mirrors and doors, and they all lead to you. From start to –"

"From start to finish," Reinette surmised when Brendan faltered, thoughtful and a little awestruck. "Such magnificent descriptions. In your world, there is a craft – a _vessel_ , as you say – where the days of my life are pressed together like the chapters of a book, so that you and he may step from one to the other without increase of age while I, weary traveller, must always take the slower path."

Brendan smiled softly, a strange hint of pride tugging at him. "Exactly."

Reinette drew a shaky breath. "So, in five years, these creatures will return. What can be done?"

"You have to keep them talking," Brendan explained. "For some reason, they want to respond to you. You can stall them, but it's not a solution."

"Then what?" Reinette asked seriously.

"Keep them talking. Just long enough 'til the Doctor can get to you."

Reinette perked up at the mention of the time traveller. "He's coming, then?" she asked eagerly.

"Yup. He said so."

Reinette averted her gaze, crestfallen. "Yet he cannot make his promises in person," she sighed, beleaguered.

"He'll be here," Brendan assured her. "I don't really know him properly, but he's always showed up when I was in trouble. He'll do the same for you."

"He will," Reinette nodded with certainty. "It's the way it's always been. Thank you for informing me, Brendan."

Brendan smiled sheepishly. "I almost didn't. Someone else was gonna come, but I wanted to at the last moment."

"I'm grateful you chose to." Reinette leaned forward and tenderly stroked his cheek. "You, like the Doctor, have been party to my life for over twenty years."

"I'm surprised you even remember me," Brendan admitted.

"You give yourself little credit," Reinette said affectionately, holding his gaze. "The Doctor makes me feel a great many things, but it is you I truly feel safe with."

"I didn't really do anything," he pointed out self-deprecatingly, once again mulling over his decision to do nothing before he was captured alongside Rose and Mickey.

"You were there for me when I was afraid and alone as a child," she rebuffed. "That was more than enough."

"I'm sorry this has happened to you," he said sincerely. "I got to have a normal life growing up. You didn't."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Reinette told him firmly. "The monsters and the Doctor… it seems you can't have one without the other."

Brendan recalled the previous times he'd encountered the Doctor, during the Sycorax and Krillitane invasions, and nodded sagely. "I know exactly what you mean."

"And I got to meet you. You with your strange clothes and your eccentric hair. I think you to be an interesting character." She dropped her hand and settled back in her chair, adopting her regal stance. "It is not only I who thinks so. The Doctor also finds you rather intriguing."

Brendan couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. "Yeah, right."

"I saw into his mind," Reinette insisted. "There's something about you, Brendan, that he can't quite figure out."

Brendan frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You claim to know of him from a time that couldn't be possible for him," she explained, the barest flicker of a captivated smile playing on her lips. "He finds it rather perplexing."

Brendan's stomach twisted at the thought. Was that why the Doctor had invited him along? Before he could press her further on the subject, he heard Mickey's panicked voice drifting through the hallway.

" _Brendan_?"

"Mickey?" he cried back, quickly jumping to his feet and running in the direction of his voice. He hurried back to the tapestry Time Window, where the older boy was bouncing from foot-to-foot. "What's up?"

"The Time Window when she's thirty-seven, we found it," Mickey informed him hurriedly. "Right under our noses." His eyes trailed past Brendan's shoulder, landing on the curious Reinette. She locked eyes with Brendan, a blaze of determination seemingly igniting within her as she hitched up her skirts and barged past the pair before they could get in a word edgewise.

" _Reinette_ ," Brendan hissed, hurrying in after her. "This could change history or something!"

"Madame de Pompadour!" Rose yelled as she joined the group, her eyes narrowing on the aristocrat. "You can't be in here, the Doctor will go mad!"

"Bit late for that, Rose," Mickey mumbled unhelpfully.

"So, this is his world." Reinette sounded like she was in a bit of a daze as she circled around the cold, dark corridor, and Brendan doubted she had even listened to Rose's warning. "Metal and alloys, like you said."

"You shouldn't have to see this," Brendan said vehemently, but his words were quickly drowned out by a sudden deluge of terrified screams.

"What was that?" Reinette demanded apprehensively.

"Audio link to five years from now," Rose said quietly. "The Doctor fixed it up."

"Those screams," Reinette started, her watery stare alternating between the trio. "Is that my future?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry," Rose murmured sympathetically.

"Then I must take the slower path," Reinette decided with shaky resolve.

" _Are you there? Can you hear me? I need you now, you promise. The clock on the mantle is broken. It's time!_ "

"That's my voice," Reinette gasped, fresh tears welling up in her eyes.

"The Doctor's coming for you, Reinette," Brendan said assuringly as he took hold of her hand. He was vaguely aware of Mickey and Rose exchanging words, but was more focused on the terrified woman before him. "He'll save you. Trust me."

"I do," Reinette agreed sombrely, a shy smile spreading across her nervous features. "I've never had a friend like you before, Brendan. I'm glad I got to see you again."

"Me, too," Brendan agreed stiltedly, unsure on why she was talking as if they'd never see each other again.

Rose tentatively appeared by their side, breaking the moment. "Are you okay?" she asked, sotto voce.

"No," Reinette sighed with peaceful resolve. "I'm very, very afraid. But you and I both know, don't we, Rose? The Doctor is worth the monsters."

With a final half-smile to accompany the statement, Reinette jutted her chin up high and traipsed through the tapestry, slowly solidifying the first step towards her five-year endgame. Brendan watched her go numbly, afraid of what would happen to her. In the space of an hour or so, the little girl had matured and grown up in front of him, and he couldn't help but feel fond of her as a result.

"She'll be okay, won't she?" he asked the more experienced time traveller by his side.

Rose comfortingly looped her arm around his. "She's smart," she said, almost grudgingly. "She'll figure something out."

"Hope you're right…"

Rose smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Come on, Mickey's gone back to the Doctor already. They're waiting for us."

"This is it, isn't it?" Brendan asked glumly as he allowed Rose to briskly guide him down the hall. "The make or break situation."

"Yup," Rose said with faux cheer. "You either –"

"Hack it or you don't," Brendan recited. "Come on, let's hurry."

They broke into a run, sprinting the rest of the distance to the main control hub of the ship. The scene was a frenzy – the shaggy-haired Doctor was working away relentlessly at the panel, occasionally glancing at a giant monitor affixed to the wall – a feed detailing a large ballroom filled to the brim with masked guests being shephered by the clockwork droids.

"Still nothing?" Rose said critically.

"They knew I was coming. They've blocked it off," the Doctor said desperately, his voice trembling as he flitted about the room. Brendan stared at the frenzied scene in horror, the terrified cries uncomfortably reminding him of his mother's mournful sobs during the Sycorax incident.

"I don't get it, how did they get in there?"

"They teleported, you saw them," the Doctor explained rapidly. "As long as the ship and the ballroom are linked, their short range teleports will do the trick."

"Well, we'll go in the TARDIS!" Rose threw out.

"We can't use the TARDIS. We're part of events now," he growled impatiently, still whizzing about the room sonicking sockets and fiddling with wires.

"Well, can't we just smash through?" Mickey asked optimistically.

"Hyperplex this side, plate glass the other. We'd need a truck!"

"We don't have a truck!"

"I _know_ we don't have a truck!" the Doctor yelled, his anger finally brimming to the surface.

"Well, we've got to try something," Rose stubbornly shouted back.

"No, smash the glass, smash the Time Window – there'd be no way back," the Doctor said solemnly.

"We can't leave her!" Brendan spoke up.

"I'm _not_ ," the Doctor hissed tensely, effectively shutting down conversation. Everyone fell silent, the implications of the situation finally catching up to them as no viable solution could be found. Reinette's calm voice pierced the gloom, and Brendan watched as she bravely took centre-stage in the middle of the ballroom.

"They'll kill her," he said to nobody in particular, heart sinking into his stomach at the thought. "They'll kill her like they killed the crew."

"I know that," the Doctor said, apparently the only one to hear him. Rose and Mickey were off to the side, embroiled in an argument of their own.

"You have to stop this," Brendan said insistently. "All those stories you told me, the Sycorax, the Krillitane – you're used to this!"

"What would you have me do?" the Doctor said sharply, his tone softening when Brendan reared back in shock. "I can't fix everything, Brendan. I don't always have the answers. And right now, in this moment, I have nothing."

Brendan loathed the resignation in the man's voice. He turned his head to the right – just to avoid looking him in the eyes – and came face-to-face with the snout of a horse. "Arthur?" he squeaked, grimacing when the horse's responsive whinny blew hot air straight into his face.

"See, I knew the name would catch on," the Doctor said blithely, before suddenly growing rigid. " _Oh_." He abruptly leapt onto the horse's saddle, taking hold of its reins. He sat there for a while, his face the picture of indecision, before determination seemed to well up within him.

"What are you doing?" Brendan gasped.

"Something." The Doctor looked down at him knowingly, a manic grin spreading across his face. "Allons-y!" He dug into the horse's side and took off in a gallop, making a beeline for the plexiglass screen.

"Doctor?" Rose said in alarm, frowning when the Doctor didn't even look at her as he raced past. " _Doctor!_ " she yelled again as he and Arthur hurled themselves into the Time Window. The screen flickered and died as the connection between time periods was permanently severed, the distant cry of a horse being the last sound they heard before everything fell into a stunned silence.

"What happened?" Mickey asked desperately. "Where did the Time Window go? How's he gonna get back?!"

Brendan looked to Rose in the hope of an answer, but she just stared brokenly ahead, her back turned to them. Realising crept up on him, and sombre understanding lit up his expression. "He's gone."

"But he can't be," Mickey said wildly. "He made it back from worse, right, Rose?" When he didn't immediately receive a response, he grew more agitated. " _Rose_. He came back from those Dalek things, he can come back from this, right? _Right_?"

Brendan's heart sank when Rose continued to ignore them. The Doctor really was gone.

* * *

"We can't fly the TARDIS without him." Mickey spoke up, shattering the stifling silence once again. "How's he going to get back?"

Again Rose refused to respond, opting to stare upwards. Mickey begrudgingly accepted her silence, leaning against the terminal and shooting Brendan a smile. Brendan tried to smile back, but it was weak and half-hearted. He anxiously wrung his hands, overcome with so many thoughts as he leaned against the comforting sturdiness of the blue box.

He'd left so much for this opportunity. His family, his new job, his friends, his _life_ – and for what? To be stranded on a deserted spaceship powered by the remains of its butchered crew?

Brendan impulsively smacked the back of his head against the TARDIS, wincing at the dull pain radiating near his scalp. He took a page out of Rose's book, and tilted his head upwards to gaze at the starry explosion through the skylight, the magnificent sight softening the edges of his anxiety. _This_ was what Rose and Sarah Jane had left home for. He wondered what it was like, truly, to be an aimless traveller drifting through the starlight. He also thought of Reinette, and whether the Doctor had managed to rescue her.

"Are we gonna die here?" he raised to an unresponsive audience, bowing his head remorsefully as a chill ran through his body "It's getting cold."

That seemed to bring Rose out of her stupor. She looked down at him with something akin to pity – or guilt. "Hang on," she said, fishing a key out of her pocket and jamming it into the lock.

"You could've let us in a lot sooner!" Mickey complained.

"Yeah, well, I'm doing it now," Rose said shortly, throwing the door open with more force than strictly necessary. "In you go."

Mickey immediately shuffled in, but Brendan hauled himself to his feet and looked at her carefully. "What about you?"

"I'm waiting," she replied simply.

"But he's –"

"Coming back," Rose asserted in a tone that warranted no argument. "I'll wait here 'til he does."

Brendan nodded hesitantly, reluctant to infuriate his friend, but cautious about leaving her on her own. "Don't stay out too long," he told her, stepping into the ship only when she gave him an unconvincing nod.

The bright orange TARDIS interior warmed Brendan to his core. He tiredly dragged himself up the ramp, wondrously brushing the pulsing coral strut as he went along, and collapsing into the jump-seat beside Mickey.

"You think she's gonna be okay?" Brendan asked. Of all the time he'd lived alongside Rose Tyler, he had never seen her look so quietly devastated.

"She'll be fine," Mickey said reassuringly.

"The Doctor and her…" Brendan continued cautiously. "Were they... close?"

"Yeah, they're tight," Mickey said, and Brendan caught the barest trace of acrimony, like the suggestion didn't quite sit right with his friend. "And you gotta stop talking about him in the past tense."

Brendan frowned. "But he's –"

"Trapped, I know. But he won't be for long."

Brendan surveyed the cavernous console room, the usual wonder eclipsed by dread. "But he's so far back. Even with two hearts, there's no way he'll make it."

"Time was I thought Rose wouldn't make it back," Mickey revealed sombrely, his gaze fixed intensely on the railing. "Back when she went missing for a year. And then when she jumped back into some warzone. I thought she was gonna die for sure, but she came back every time, because of him." Mickey clenched his fists, his brows furrowing as he spoke with tremendous certainty. "He's gonna make it back."

"Didn't realise you believed in him so much."

"Neither did I," Mickey admitted. "But the Doctor's always been there when we needed him. He ain't gonna bail out now. She knows that, and I know that."

"I wish I felt that," Brendan murmured. Mickey offered him a weak half-smile, jostling his shoulder as he stood back up.

"Rose once said that the Doctor shows you a better way of living your life. And you don't just sit around waiting for something to happen." Mickey nodded resolutely. "I'm gonna try and prove her right."

"How are you gonna manage that?"

"That computer the Doctor was working on, maybe I can send out a distress signal or something," he shrugged a little helplessly. "I'm good with computers."

Brendan forced an encouraging smile. "Guess it's worth a shot."

Mickey smiled, emboldened by the encouragement, and hurried out of the TARDIS. A moment later, Brendan stood up and followed, just out of curiosity. He peered out the doorway, watching Mickey dutifully set to work in his vain quest to understand the fifty-first century technology, while Rose had returned to her spot, unmoving.

He was about to offer his assistance, just to get his mind off the whole situation, when a flicker of amber caught his attention. He turned to the room that led to the fireplace, the trace of orange flames smothered by the surrounding metal walls.

Glancing back at the others, Brendan wandered over to the chamber and peered inside, seeking out the fireplace. Despite everything that had occured over the past few hours, it still stood impossibly amongst the metal and steel.

Recalling how the Doctor had transported himself back to France with such ease, Brendan curiously moved over and scoured the mantlepiece, poking at the clock and the woodwork, but eventually admitted a weary defeat when he couldn't trip a mechanism.

"Sorry," he mumbled haplessly, as though his plea had the ability to transcend entire time periods and the Doctor could hear him from ancient France.

Fully exhausted of all possibilities, Brendan wearily turned to check on Mickey, managing five full steps before a startlingly loud triumphant cry echoed around the chamber and forced him to stop.

" _Loose connection_!" a familiar voice crowed. Brendan rushed to the fireplace again, almost daring to let hope swell in his gut when the buzz of the sonic screwdriver reached his ears. " _Need to get a man in_."

"Doctor...?" Brendan called out to thin air, awkwardly stood with a hand on the mantle. He jumped back in surprise when the entire fireplace started to revolve again, watching in disbelief as the Doctor circled back into view, his back to him. "Doctor!"

The Doctor spun around at the mention of his name, and his crestfallen expression changed entirely as he broke into a grin. "Brendan Ambrosi-Jackman!" he cried joyfully. "Still alive, then."

"I could say the same about you," Brendan spluttered. "What just _happened_?"

" _Well_ – oh, one sec," the Doctor turned his back again, crouching beside the fireplace. "Madame de Pompadour! Still want to see those stars?"

"More than anything," Reinette's wistful voice filtered in from the other side of the fireplace.

"Give me two minutes," the Doctor promised. "Pack a bag."

"Am I going somewhere?" Reinette said with earnest.

"Go to the window. Pick a star, any star," the Doctor instructed enticingly, before whirling around and clapping a stunned Brendan on the shoulders as he bounced into the ship's main control room, calling out for Rose.

"Brendan?" Reinette called out, snapping Brendan out of his baffled stupor. He crouched down beside the fireplace to see her gazing back at him over the amber flames.

"Reinette," he started, unsure of where to start. "You're okay," he decided upon saying.

"Yes," Reinette confirmed. "All the creatures suddenly stopped once the Doctor arrived. Died on the spot."

Brendan nodded thoughtfully. "I wonder why…"

"I wouldn't be able to explain," Reinette chuckled sombrely. "I know not the words that circle his head."

"You and me both," Brendan laughed. "So, you're coming with us, then?"

"Yes," Reinette smiled. "I would be delighted."

"Better get packing, then," Brendan advised. "But not much, apparently we have a whole wardrobe."

Reinette perked up, dashing away like a child at Christmas. Brendan watched her disappear from view, thankful that she was coming along. There was plenty of space in the TARDIS, after all. He rose to join the others, yelping when the Doctor unexpectedly zipped past.

"Careful!" he hissed, narrowly avoiding collision with the Time Lord.

"Five and a half hours," the Doctor blathered as he latched onto the fireplace. "Not a bad time to wait for someone."

"You off again?" Brendan frowned distractedly. Had it really been that long?

"Just gotta pick up Reinette," the Doctor continued excitedly. "Go wait in the TARDIS." He clicked the hidden mechanism again and rotated out of view. Brendan did as he was told, hurrying back into the TARDIS to find Rose and Mickey leaning against the console.

"Where'd he go?" Mickey spluttered.

"It's obvious, isn't it," Rose muttered lowly, looking mightily peeved. "He's gone to _her_."

"How come?"

Rose's scowl deepened. "Cos she's –"

"I think she's coming with us," Brendan hastily threw in, uncomfortable with the flare of green envy in Rose's contorted expression.

"What, seriously?" Mickey scoffed incredulously.

"Oh, why not," Rose continued snidely. "He's apparently all about picking up _girls_."

"Like Lynda with a Y?" Mickey snickered.

Rose rounded on him irritably. "I told you not to mention her –" Brendan idly wondered who Lynda with a Y was, but decided it wasn't worth getting his head bitten off for questioning.

"Thing is, though, I thought it'd be chicks from our time, you know?" Mickey pondered aloud. "I mean, sure, there was Sarah Jane, but even she's not as ancient as Madame de Pompous. Imagine her keeping up with all the running in that fluffy dress!"

"She'd have to bunch up her skirts all the time," Rose suddenly burst out laughing at the thought; even Brendan cracked a small, fond smile at the comical exaggeration. He watched awkwardly as the pair started devising elaborate, contrived adventures featuring Reinette and her French etiquette.

They were getting very into their hypothetical situations until the Doctor abruptly strode back into the TARDIS and wordlessly marched towards the console, his hands stuffed into his pockets and his face ashen.

The atmosphere seemed to deflate instantly. Mickey leapt away from the console to stand by Rose's side. "Where's Madame de Pompadour?" he asked innocently, as if he wasn't making fun of her a second ago. The Doctor sharply glared at him, eyes ablaze with such fury that Brendan was taken aback, until his expression crumpled and became more guarded.

"Change of plan," the Doctor said reticently, idly flicking at the controls. Brendan shared a sidelong glance with Rose.

"Is she okay?" he spoke up in concern. The Doctor stared at him for what felt like an age, as if he were only just realising he was there and couldn't figure out a suitable response. Brendan had seen the look before many times, when his parents had argued and his mum couldn't quite explain it to his or Nathan's faces.

"She's fine," the Doctor said at last, tugging at his ear uncomfortably.

"But why her?" Rose asked suddenly. "Why did they think that they could repair the ship with the head of Madame de Pompadour?" she hastily elaborated when all eyes landed on her.

"We'll probably never know," the Doctor admitted. "There was massive damage in the computer memory banks. It probably got confused." He circled around the console to get to the scanner. "The TARDIS can close down the Time Windows now the droids are gone. Should stop it causing any more trouble."

Brendan tightly gripped the nearest railing, a pit of dread slowly forming in his stomach. He was desperate to know what had happened to Reinette, but the Doctor clearly wasn't in the mood. Apprehension clawed at him, and he turned to the others for support.

Rose must have noticed, as she nervously scratched her cheek and mustered the courage to speak. "You alright?"

The Doctor turned to her. "I'm always alright," he deflected, the smile on his face feeling false and tacked-on. He quickly turned away again, effectively shutting down any ensuing conversation.

"Come on, Rose. It's time you showed us around the rest of this place," Mickey spoke up, his eyes alight with quiet understanding. He grabbed Rose by the hand and looked over at Brendan meaningfully. "Time to find that wardrobe, right?"

Brendan took in the Doctor's slack expression a final time, his heart heavy as he nodded wearily. "Yeah."


	7. Eye of the Horizon

Time aboard the TARDIS was difficult to discern. There were no clocks for Brendan to turn to to correctly identify a routine day and night cycle, and windows appeared to be a rarity, so he could only rely on his own unreliable instincts. By his flimsy estimate, roughly half an hour had passed since he, Rose and Mickey had left the Doctor behind in the console room.

"You should've let me talk to him," Rose complained. "He was clearly upset."

"Yeah, exactly," Mickey retorted. "Which is why you need to give him space."

"Look, you don't know him like I do," Rose insisted. "When he gets all up in his head like that…"

"Just cut him some slack," Mickey advised. "He's clearly not over Reinette."

"Oh, she's _Reinette_ now?" Rose murmured sulkily. "Five seconds ago, she was Madame de Pompous with the fluffy dress."

"You were making fun of her too!" Mickey threw back.

"Nah, I was just saying… oi!"

They'd all stumbled into the swimming pool by some sleight of hand, swimming trunks and a bikini already neatly placed on the bench for them (which Rose had explained away as the TARDIS' sentience, which Brendan just found plain freaky and had opened up a ton of other questions he'd bombard her with later).

Mickey and Rose had changed in the adjoining changing rooms at the far end of the hall, and dove straight into the pool to cool off, while Brendan had decided to sit on the sidelines. Now, as he drew his feet up and watched them splash each other childishly, he was quietly glad he'd foregone the swim session.

He snapped back to reality when Mickey swam over to him. "You're quiet," he noted suspiciously.

"Yup," Brendan agreed wryly. "Nice observation."

Mickey playfully rolled his eyes, and with the casual flick of his hand, sprayed Brendan's face and clothes with pool water.

"Nice," Brendan remarked dryly, once he'd gotten over his initial surprise, and pushed his dripping hair away from his eyes.

"I think the wet puppy look suits ya," Rose mused cheekily as she joined their gathering. Brendan sceptically looked at his reflection through the water, and decided he looked more like a drowned animal.

"Don't think I agree," he mused, leaning back with a hefty sigh.

"You alright?" Rose asked, her concern dripping into her tone.

"Yeah," Brendan smiled wanly, pushing himself to his feet and wincing at his drenched clothes. "Just… tired. I think I'm gonna head to my room. Get out of this mess."

"You want me to show you the way?" Rose offered. "It's a big place."

Brendan gently shook his head. "I'll be alright. It'll do me good to get my bearings, right?"

Rose nodded reluctantly. "Just remember that if you've made it to the TARDIS wardrobe —"

"I've gone too far," Brendan recited, pressing two fingers to his temple and giving Rose a jaunty mock-salute. "Got it. Enjoy your swim."

He paced leisurely out of the swimming pool, waiting until he was out of eye-shot to stuff his hands into his pockets and lean against the wall. What a day it'd been. Derelict spaceships in the 51st century, practically prehistoric France, and a French aristocrat that had the visage of a woman but who Brendan struggled to reconcile with the scared little girl haunted in her bedroom.

He wandered down the extensive TARDIS hallway, almost drifting past the doors without a solid destination in mind. Memories of the day's key events flashed through his mind, and he couldn't shake them off no matter how hard he tried. His first trip, and it had been as breathless as it'd been terrifying. As fantastic as it had been confusing.

His aimless journey abruptly came to an end when he'd stumbled through an opening, and he quickly realised he'd unintentionally ambled back to the TARDIS control room. His eyes landed on the Doctor, still slumped over the controls, poring over the monitor, and quickly tried to back away. But a deep, mechanical chirp suddenly seemed to resound all around him, and the Doctor spun around before he could make his escape.

"Brendan!" the Doctor chirped in surprise. "So she was right."

"She?" Brendan parroted, askance.

"The TARDIS," the Doctor said in a manner of explanation, but that only opened up more questions for Brendan.

"The TARDIS' a girl?"

"Nothing wrong with being just a girl," the Doctor said sagely, patting the console almost tenderly. "Sarah Jane taught me that. She's not just a machine, she's alive."

"Sarah Jane?"

"The TARDIS," the Doctor said patiently, lips quirking in amusement when Brendan nodded hastily, feeling a little dumb. "What can I do for you?" he inquired brightly.

"Nothing, really," Brendan admitted. "I sort of wandered in here by mistake." He glanced back at the hallway with a thoughtful frown. "Dunno how."

The Doctor hummed considerately, running a hand through his hair. They lapsed into silence, Brendan shifting awkwardly in his presence. Did the man even want him around? Mickey had been right, he needed time to mourn. Logic dictated that he formulated a weak excuse to make a quick getaway, but something in the Doctor's seemingly cheery expression held him in place.

"You're okay… right?" he asked carefully.

"I'm always okay," the Doctor said smoothly. "You?"

Brendan nodded. "Yeah." He was saying 'yeah' a lot today. He vaguely wondered if the others had noticed.

The Doctor shifted suddenly. "I was actually gonna do some stargazing."

"Oh." Brendan did his very best to look interested. "That's cool. How d'you manage that?"

"Oh, I've got this… telescope… _thing_. Would you mind getting it for me?" the Doctor asked eagerly.

Brendan shrugged. "Sure. Where is it?"

The Doctor nodded at the ramp. "Through that door."

Brendan followed his gaze, frowning when his eyes landed on the only door in sight. "But that's the exit."

The Doctor waggled his brows conspiratorially, making no move to elaborate. Brendan hesitated a second longer, wondering if he was gonna burst out laughing and say that he was only pulling his leg, but the Doctor remained still. Finally, he relented and padded over to the TARDIS doors, looking back in askance when his hands rested on the door. The Doctor had shucked off his beige overcoat, nodding encouragingly from his spot by the console, his hand on a lever.

Feeling a sudden bout of nerves fluttering in the pit of his stomach, Brendan took a ridiculously steadying breath and pulled the doors open.

The problem was that he couldn't quite get the breath out again.

"… wow," he managed, suddenly feeling very, very small. Mapped out before him was a void, dotted with burning spheres of gaseous orbs and marvellous explosions of light ranging from so many colours, ochres and fuchsias and indigos to the most blindest, purest white. "This is…"

"Space. Up close and personal," the Doctor murmured in his ear, suddenly very close. Brendan looked at him, wide-eyed and a little weak in the knees.

"How am I breathing?" he inquired, tripping over his ironically breathless words.

"Oh, I extended the air shell," the Doctor batted off nonchalantly, resting an arm against the door. "Nothing to worry about."

"Will it run out?"

The Doctor's eyes darted from the spectacle to him. "I said not to worry," he said cheekily.

"Okay," Brendan said simply, breaking into a short bark of disbelieving laughter. "Wow." He flinched back when there was a sudden clap of thunder, and the most dazzling vermilion light blinded him momentarily. "What was _that_?"

"Energy discharge," the Doctor explained, sounding very much like a tour guide. "Interstellar lightning, to be precise. It's what this place is renowned for. We're in the Voorhiden horizon. Eye of the storm. Any minute now, the sun's gonna come up and… oh, here we go." He grinned toothily down at Brendan. "Probably best to just see for yourself."

True to his word, the dark void gradually started to brighten into a pinkish cotton-candy colour, revealing just how expansive the bright tundras of nebulae and planets were. Brendan's eyes roamed around the wondrous horizon, words escaping him.

"It's beautiful," he finally managed. "Do you ever get tired of it?"

"Never." The Doctor said it like a promise, his lips quirking into a soft smile. His eyes seemed to shine in the starlight. Brendan couldn't help but marvel at the exceptional circumstances he lived his life. "I was going to…" he started, only to trail off abruptly.

Brendan frowned. "What?"

The Doctor inhaled sharply, looking directly at him. "I was thinking of bringing Reinette here," he said candidly, and some of Brendan's prior apprehension returned.

"Why didn't she come with us, Doctor?"

"She just couldn't."

"But I saw her," Brendan argued. "She _wanted_ to. Why'd she change her mind?"

"She didn't," the Doctor said sombrely. "But she didn't have a choice."

"I don't understand."

"I think you do." The Doctor reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. "She left you a message," he explained, patiently holding it out.

Brendan stared at it for the longest time, his eyes tracing along the envelope as if it were a foreign object. "What'd she say?" he asked carefully.

"Read it," the Doctor offered, yet Brendan still hesitated. Here the man was with all the answers to his burning questions, but he was too afraid to take it. To break the illusion. To face the truth.

There was another crack of interstellar lightning. Brendan glimpsed it in his periphery, slightly startled. It was almost as if the universe itself was prompting him along. For some reason, he couldn't get the thought of K9 out of his head. He recalled the way Sarah Jane had mourned for the metal dog, and how that grief haunted the edges of her expression the last time he'd met her. But she'd confronted her grief head-on. He admired her for that, and silently wondered if he would be able to cope the way she did.

"Brendan," the Doctor urged again. Slowly, uncertainly, Brendan clasped the envelope with shaky hands and pulled the fold away to prise the letter underneath. It was still crisp, perfectly preserved over the years. The lettering was neat and cursive, exactly what he'd expect of an aristocrat.

_My Dear Brendan,_

_When I last spoke to you, we_ _'d dreamed of such adventure. I prepared a moderate amount of luggage, as you'd advised, and waited patiently for your return. But now I fear I will not get the chance to see you again before the end._

_I am very scared of what is assuredly to come. I_ _'ve felt it for a long time now, and it's finally started catching up. I look to my fireplace every night in the hopes that you will return to spirit me out of bed and hold my hand once more. But now I fear it is too late._

_I wrote to the Doctor also, telling him that reason is a foolish thing, but as I grow more infirm, I think I shall exert a modicum of sensibility and put in two requests for you. My first is this; travel to your heart_ _'s content. The image I see in the Doctor's mind's eye is of a little boy who desires nothing more. You have a lot in common, I think. Two strange enigmas. I suspect his curiosity for your unwritten encounter still plagues him. He is a very guarded man, that Time Lord._

_And my second request is that you go to the most wonderful star you can find in my honour. I think I will regret the missed opportunity to acquaint myself further with you. There are not many people in my life I would consider to be a brother, and even fewer from the short amount of time I_ _'d actually known. But even then I know, in my heart, you would make a fine prince._

_Keep me in your memory, if you are able. As I keep you in mine._

_Godspeed,_

_Reinette_

Brendan read the letter over once. Then he reread it twice, his trembling fingers digging into the parchment as he pored over every word, soaking in Reinette's final words to him. He could almost hear her voice, calling to him in that measured, clever tone, and it increased his grief tenfold. It seemed almost ridiculous, to cling onto someone he barely knew, but Brendan had never been very good with handling his emotions.

"So that's why," he murmured, collapsing to his knees.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said gently, amiably sitting next to him. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Was it —" Brendan took a breath. "Was she okay in the end?"

"I think so."

"Can we see her?"

"No."

Brendan looked to him in surprise. "But we have a time machine," he pointed out imploringly. "Please. Just to say goodbye."

The Doctor inhaled sharply, turning to Brendan with eyes full of regret. "I don't look back," he explained solemnly. "I can't. There's too much…" He trailed off. Brendan waited for him to conclude his train of thought, but the man seemed to collapse into himself. "I can't save everyone, Brendan."

The admission tugged at Brendan, and he recalled, with a start, Finch's proposition to the Doctor only a few days ago — though it felt like far longer — and he remembered the wistful longing in the Doctor's voice, and the dangerous steel in his eyes. ' _I could save everyone_ ', he had said, as if it were taboo.

So there were limits after all.

He slumped against the door in disappointment, staring at the flickers of electrical energy pinging along the Voorhiden Horizon. "What did Finch mean?" he asked impulsively, suddenly desperate to know.

"About what?"

"When he called you a Time Lord."

The Doctor's brows knitted together in genuine confusion. "That's what I am."

Brendan suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "I know that, but what actually _is_ a Time Lord? He called them dusty old senators, but you're definitely not that."

"I'm not, am I?" the Doctor tugged at his tie, suddenly looking rather pleased with himself. Brendan couldn't help but laugh in response.

"Is it true you have two hearts?"

"Oh, yes."

"Do you have like, major diabetes?"

The Doctor arched his brows. "Oh, _no_."

"Blood sugar?"

"Are you just loaded with an endless stream of twenty-one questions?" the Doctor squeaked, cheeky and a tiny bit defencive. Brendan chuckled lightly, but made no move to shift the topic. Eventually, the Doctor sighed huffily. "Not going to let it drop?"

"Do you want me to?" Brendan asked honestly. "You can always just give me directions to the wardrobe, if you want."

"Gallifrey."

Brendan furrowed his brow. "Is that where the wardrobe is?"

The Doctor's lips quirked into an amused smile. "That's where I'm from," he revealed, eyes twinkling with wonder and longing as he watched the pink-y horizon. "Me and the others — well, just me now, I suppose."

"Just you?" Brendan repeated. "You're alone?"

"I am now, yeah," the Doctor said lowly. "They're all gone now. There was this… war. Everything burned. Everything except me." He was still staring up at the Horizon. Brendan got the impression he was avoiding his gaze.

"So, your family and everything?"

"Gone."

Brendan tentatively swung his dangling legs out the TARDIS and into the listless gravity of space, fiddling with the letter in his hands as he digested the knowledge the Doctor had imparted upon him. He didn't know if he'd ever heard a person sound so profoundly sad in his life. "Gallifrey," he said briskly, testing the way it rolled off his tongue. "It sounds nice."

"Oh, it was." That wistful grin was back on the Doctor's face, but it quickly faded into a perplexed frown. "What's that?"

Brendan followed his line of sight curiously, squinting when he noticed a gleaming speckle of light sailing through space, illuminated by timely cracks of interstellar lightning.

"Is that — _no_ ," the Doctor breathed. "That's impossible. That should be _completely_ impossible."

"What is it?" Brendan asked. The object was still too far away for him to properly identify it.

"It's a bottle!" The Doctor suddenly leapt to his feet, leaning out the door as far as his fingertips could stretch, clasping the bottle with a triumphant cry when it floated into arm's reach. Brendan blinked, surprised that he'd managed to catch it, and watched as he prised the bottle cap open. "Oh, brilliant! Look at that," he cooed, waving the bottle in his face.

Brendan narrowed his eyes in surprise. There was a piece of paper wedged inside. "A letter?"

"No, no — it's a postcard." He jammed his fingers into the bottleneck and deftly pulled the crumpled paper out. "Postcard in a bottle, just like she said."

"Who said?"

The Doctor was clearly past the point of listening, his eyes darting across the creased paper. It stunned Brendan how quickly his mood had shifted from despondency to that typical Doctor behaviour — manic excitement that burst from every part of his body. Whoever 'she' was clearly had history with the Time Lord.

"Go get Rose and Mickey," the Doctor said suddenly. "Tell them to get dressed."

"Are we going somewhere?"

"Athena Minor!" the Doctor crowed in answer, bounding towards the console before Brendan could question him further. Realising the conversation had drawn to a close, he read his letter again, then took a final look at the Horizon, taking in as many details as he could for Reinette's sake, and then carefully folded the parchment and pocketed it.

It was time to travel to his heart's content. For Reinette. For himself.


End file.
